Where the Green Briers Twine--Part 3
by Pat Storm
Summary: Conclusion


**Chapter 48**

Jonesy was kneading dough on the kitchen chopping block when Slim called out for him from the bedroom. First he wiped his hands on the towel lying on the cupboard next to the block then continued wiping the flour dust from his hands on his apron as he hurried to see what Slim needed.

Entering the room, Jonesy saw Slim trying to pull his injured leg over the side of the bed as he sat up. "What on earth do you think you're doing there, Son?" Jonesy excitedly declared as he rushed forward to push the big man back down in the bunk.

"I'm going crazy lying around here in bed just waiting to hear from Jess or Andy. I need to be doing something. There ain't enough light in here to read or do much of anything but pick at my fingernails," the troubled rancher replied, his chest pushing on the older man's hands as Jonesy continued to try and force the larger man down. "There's some old crutches out in the barn. I want you to go out there and bring them in to me. I think I can get out to the couch, at least then I can read to occupy my time."

"Nope, I'm not going do it, Slim. Not until the doctor says you can get out of that bed. He'll be here to check on you today and we can ask him then. Right now," Jonesy continued to shove back on the younger man's chest until he finally relaxed and leaned back on the pillows. "You just relax and let me get my work done." Adjusting the rancher's leg on the bed, fluffing his pillows and pulling the covers over him, Jonesy added, "I know how boring it must be in here with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. I wish I could spend more time with you, but there's always work to be done. You know that."

"Yeah, and that's part of the problem," Slim sighed in his dismay. "Here I am, just lying here when there's so much work that needs to get done," Slim said, putting his arm behind his head as he settled down upon the pillows. "I should be out there looking for Andy," he mumbled as he slapped the thigh of his injured leg, causing a wince, "if it weren't for this."

"I can light the lamp for you, maybe then you can read?" Jonesy suggested, frustrated that it was the only thing he was able to offer the disheartened man.

"I tried that last night, I can't get it bright enough so my eyes don't burn when I try to read. Daylight from the window is what I need and moving the bed over there," he pointed at the window at the far side of the room, "wouldn't make much sense. Okay, you win. I'll wait until the doc gets here. I know, you'll gang up on me, but you're not going to win this one. I just have to get out of this bed one way or another," Slim insisted, a slight smile creeping across his lips at the sight of the anxiety on Jonesy's face, giving it away that his frown of determination was negotiable. "You know Jonesy, those crutches sure will help, but with or without them, I'm going to be reading a book on the couch this afternoon and out on the porch by the end of the week!"

To placate the younger man, Jonesy agreed, "We'll see what the doc says. I'll be in your corner on this one, Slim. I think he'll approve if we're real careful and you agree to keep your leg up on a chair. You just take it easy until he gets here and," the caretaker's sentence was interrupted as a knock came to the front door. "There! That's probably him now," Jonesy said with a smile as he turned to leave the bedroom and get the door, glad to think the sparring match was over and it would be up to the doctor to convince Slim that he should remain in bed.

"I don't think so," Slim said, a questioning look crossed his face, "Didn't hear his buggy or any horses."

"You're right," Jonesy agreed, with a frown, as he walked out from the bedroom toward the ranch house door.

Opening the door Jonesy discovered Dragos shyly fingering his cap. "I am sorry to bother you, especially after my last visit. I hope Slim is feeling better today. I am so sorry that I spoke out of turn. I did not know that Slim did not know about young Andy. I do want to apologize and say goodbye. We have finished the repairs on the vardo and we will be on our way shortly. My brother has gone to the Bradley farm to tell them that they will be needed here to help with the stagecoaches, as Slim requested. If for any reason they cannot be here right away, we will delay our departure until we are sure that all is well here at the ranch. We owe Mr. Sherman very much for all the help. My people have great sorrow for the trouble we have caused and only wish we could be of more service, but alas, we must travel on now. It is a long way to our winter campgrounds and we cannot lose much more time or it will be too late to travel and we would then only become more of a burden to you.

"Please, may I thank him personally and say goodbye and wish Mr. Sherman well before we leave? Besides," Dragos held up a small purse, "I have money to repay him for the axles."

Unable to refuse his request, Jonesy invited the gypsy man into the house, "Slim's resting in his bedroom and I'm sure he'd appreciate the company," Jonsey said, pointing toward the bedroom door. "I have some things I have to attend to in the kitchen. You go right in."

Nearly whispering, Dragos asked, "Are there any, ah, tender things that I must not mention. I do not want to upset him again."

"No, I guess it's all out in the open, now," Jonsey replied, unable to hide his distaste for what had happened the last time that Dragos visited.

The gypsy man headed for the bedroom while Jonesy went to the kitchen to work on the waiting and already rising bread dough. After checking and turning it over, he gave it a couple of frustrated punches then turned to the stove to stoke the fire and add a few more small logs in preparation to putting some water on to boil for his stew and shortly bake the bread.

After shaping the dough into loaves, Jonesy covered them with a towel and set them off to the side of the stove to rise while he cut up meat to fry and get ready for the stewpot.

Knocking at the open bedroom door before entering, Dragos strolled to Slim's bedside and sat down in the chair next to it, reaching out his hand in a warm handshake. "Hello, my friend. I am hoping you are feeling better?"

With a smile, Slim rolled on his side slightly, as far as his injured leg would allow, and heartily shook hands with the gaily-dressed man. "Dragos, so happy so see you."

Looking downward, sheepishly, "I hope I did not cause you much trouble with my last visit," Dragos said contritely.

"Well, you schure did stir up the pot a little," Slim responded with a troubled smile. "But I'm glad you did, or I probably wouldn't know what's been going on around here. Dragos, I need to ask you something," the rancher said. The gypsy man looked at him in acquiescence, nodding his head. "Jonesy seems to think that Andy might have followed your band. Following after your daughter. I'm glad you're here so I can ask you if you think your people would have allowed that," a small frown furrowed the injured man's forehead as he awaited a response.

Pondering the question for a moment, Dragos finally responded, "I know how there are stories about my people." After a short pause and a sigh, he continued, "I assure you, Mr. Sherman, Slim, that most of those tales are untrue. There may be some bands who have been responsible for that kind of story to become part of our people's lore, but I can tell you, my band would never do anything like that." Looking Slim deeply in the eyes and after another moment of thought, Dragos said, "If Andy had come to us and asked to follow, we would not have refused him. We welcome new people to come into our family, but, and I promise you, at Andy's tender age we would have asked for your approval.

"In our culture Andy is already a man, but we know that in your world he is still a child. We would have asked his father for his approval should Andy have asked to travel with us. Not having a father we would have come to you, as his guardian. Without your consent we would not have allowed him to join us.

"Ah, but Crina. I cannot say if she would have encouraged him. As we spoke before, I did not know of anything going on between the two young people. If Mr. Jones was aware of something, it could be that I missed her dallying with your brother. I could have assumed that she was out gathering herbs with the other women. They would know more about her not being with them, if that were the case. Unless I can talk with them, I am not sure what may have been going on between Andy and Crina. Nothing ever came to my attention and if anyone knew about them, no one told me.

"You know, Slim, Crina is desperate for a husband, especially one of her own choice. She is very headstrong," Dragos said, slowly shaking his head. "I promised her to a man who was killed before they were married. She knows that I am looking to promise her to someone again. In fact, I made arrangements for her to travel with Testa and Katia. East to Katia's family's camp to meet some young men there, before meeting up with my band again in Texas. I want to give her a chance to find a husband herself before I arrange a marriage for her. I know she will be happier with her own choice. I know she hated the man I had pledged her to and was happy when he was killed. I admit, it was a poor match and I was sorry that I agreed to it, but sometimes things happen as a point of honor. But then, that is another story," the older man said with a sigh as he recalled the circumstances that prompted him to give away his daughter to a less than savory man.

"Perhaps Crina took a shine to young Andy. She can be cunning, that one," Dragos said, a twinkle came to his eye as he thought of his dark-eyed daughter. "Maybe she convinced him to follow, but I am sure that Katia and Testa would not have allowed him to ride with them, not without your consent." Thinking about what he'd said, Dragos continued, "Testa is of my people and would not allow anything like that, but Katia and Ion, they are brother and sister from a different band. I thought them to be honorable." Thinking for a moment, he added, "Testa would not allow it, I know it, but young Ion….." the gypsy man's eyes narrowed as suspicions were developing in his mind. "He and Crina were good friends. I thought of him as a match for her, but he has his mind set on a girl from another band where we meet in Texas. He is going to ask her father for her hand, I understand. If Crina convinced him to hide Andy, it could be possible," the gypsy man said regrettably.

"Then you think it's possible that Andy went with your band and is hiding out with Ion?" Slim asked, searching for an answer in Dragos' eyes.

"Yes, very possible. I should hope not. I would not want to think any one of my people would allow such a thing to happen, but in matters of the heart," Dragos gave a wan smile before he continued. "Crina could have convinced Ion to hide Andy for her. That little minx might even have plans to marry him at Katia's family camp so she will join us in Texas with a husband and I cannot make a match for her."

"Marry him?" appalled, Slim almost shouted as he sat up tall in his cot, wincing from the pain that shot though his injured leg, "but he's just a boy!"

"To you, yes, but as I said, our people would see him as a man and Crina would plead his case, if there was any doubt about him being with them, at the Passlo camp. As I said before, she has been spoiled her whole life and has almost always gotten what she wanted. If she wants Andy, she will lie to get what she wants, I am sure," the gypsy said lowering his head sadly. "As hard as I have tried to teach her that being untruthful will only lead to heartache and trouble, the girl will not listen to me. I do not know where she gets her tongue. I have tried, if only her mother were still with us," Dragos said with a faraway look coming to his eyes as he remembered the woman he'd loved and bore him children; Crina the only one to survive.

"Jonesy said that Jess set out to follow the band during the bad storm. I can only hope that Andy is safe with Ion and was away from the bad weather," Slim said, unable to hide his tension.

"If that is so, then perhaps, your friend is bringing Andy back home at this moment," Dragos remarked, with a spark of hope, then apologized, "I am so sorry, Slim, for all the trouble we have brought to you. You are a kind man and you do not deserve the fate we have brought to your family. I wish there was more I could do."

Once again Dragos looked into Slim's eyes, "I am here to tell you that we are finished fixing the vardo, the wagon, and are planning on leaving this afternoon. My brother has ridden to the Bradley farm to ask for their assistance. We will stay until we are sure that they will be able to help with the stagecoaches. We cannot wait much longer. We must catch up with the band and get on to our winter grounds in Texas, but a day or two, until we are sure you have help, should be of no matter. I have come to say goodbye and to thank your for everything you have done for us, and again to tell you how sorry I am for any bad fortune we have brought down upon you. Oh, and this," Dragos looked down at the small leather sack in his lap and picked it up, "I have the money to repay you for the axels," he said with a proud smile as he handed it to Slim.

"Thank you, Dragos," Slim said as he accepted the purse. "I was glad to help. I reckon it's what you said. It was our fate to meet and for those fates to decide our good or bad fortunes. I wish you well and a safe journey, Dragos. If you pass Jess and Andy on their way back home, please tell them to hurry. I'm really anxious to see them both," Slim said, reaching out his hand in friendship, once again as the gypsy man nodded.

Shaking hands with the rancher, Dragos said, "When my brother returns, we will let Mr. Jones know who will be here for the stages and when we will be leaving. Since the Bradley's were aware that they were to be called upon to help, I am assuming that they will be here today and we will be on our way. I wish you well, Mr. Sherman, Slim," the gypsy man said, giving the tall man a pat on the shoulder before he left the bedroom.

As Dragos left the bedroom, Jonesy dropped the knife he'd been using to cut up the stew meat and met him near the table. "The coffee is hot, if you'd like a cup," Jonesy said in his most accommodating voice. "I'm about to take some in to Slim, you're welcome to stay and have some."

"No, I must get back to the two vardos. I am not quite finished redistributing our supplies between them. I do appreciate your offer," Dragos said, extending his hand. Reluctantly, Jonesy took the man's hand in a friendly handshake before walking him toward the ranch house door. "I will let you know when we are leaving. I will not bother you. Only let you know that we are going. Either the Bradley boys will arrive to let you know that they are here to help or my brother will let you know when to expect their arrival. I thank you Mr. Jones for your kindness," the gypsy said as he turned to open the door and leave.

Looking down at his right hand, Jonesy couldn't believe that he'd actually showed any friendship toward the gypsy man, but he had to admit that the band had showed themselves as honorable, helpful, and timely. None of his chickens were missing, the stagecoach had always been attended to properly, the barn stalls were mucked out regularly, and the barn and equipment was all neatly kept, cleaned and repaired. Even all the laundry he'd hung out on the clothesline was always present and accounted for. Maybe Slim was right about the stories he'd heard, Jonesy thought, as he walked back to the kitchen to pour a couple of cups of coffee.

Taking the two cups to the bedroom, he entered to find Slim playing cat's cradle with a piece of string, causing a gruff laugh to escape from the older man's mouth. "Now that's real boredom," Jonesy said as he set the two cups down on the table next to the bed. "Are you sure you don't want me to light the lamp and get you a book?" he asked. "I can turn up the wick."

"Nope, tried that. I can't get myself angled right to shed light on the book enough to read it. I turned up the wick high enough to almost burn down the house, but it still wasn't bright enough.

"So Dragos is moving out today?" Slim said as he adjusted himself more comfortably to accept the steaming hot liquid that smelled so appealing.

"Is that so?" Jonesy asked, as if he were surprised to learn it.

"Yeah, they're getting the Bradley boys to come out and help until Jess gets back. I sure hope that's real soon. I asked Dragos if he thought that Andy might've followed after the band. He doesn't really think so, but he could see a possibility."

"See, I told you, Slim," Jonesy said as he picked up a cup and handed it to Slim.

"Don't get started on that again, Jonesy," Slim cautioned, the harshness in his eyes convinced Jonesy to drop the subject. "The way he put it, his own band wouldn't take Andy with them without his parents' or my approval, but they have people from another band traveling with them and it could be questionable if maybe one of them might've allowed Andy to go along with them. All we can do is hope that Jess catches up with them, or already has, and finds Andy and brings him back home."

While the two men sipped at their strong, hot brew, each in deep thought, the sound of the doctor's carriage arriving was heard from outside. Jonesy rose off his chair to greet the much-anticipated medical man, nervous about the coming confrontation with Slim about getting out of his bed. Slim braced himself for the encounter by sitting himself up as straight as he could, shifting the pillows behind him to rest his back easily against them. He wanted to look wide awake, well and eager to get out of the bed so he could convince the doctor that it would be in his best interest and would help heal him faster if he was able move about, even if it was just from the bed to the couch and back again during the progress of the day. He was determined that he would convince the doctor to allow him some movement, even if he had to threaten that he'd do it on his own, permission or not.

 **Chapter 49**

After a hearty meal, Jess and Thomas bade the gathering of gypsies' goodbye, thanking them for their hospitality and especially expressing their gratitude to Esmeralda for her poultice and Sabanya for making the medicinal boot. The boot was fitted well and wasn't as cumbersome as the one that Thomas had fabricated from the old blanket. This one fit Jess' leg and foot snuggly, and had a hard sole sewn on to allow Jess a certain amount of ability to walk, if awkwardly.

"Nice folks," Thomas commented as the two rode away from the camp, retracing their trail along the river, this time going northward and following it easterly to where it split.

It took them several hours to reach the ledge where Thomas had found Jess. It was getting late and the two men had to decide if it might be wise to camp in the familiar area or push on farther along the river. "We kin camp where I spent the night, I reckon," Thomas volunteered when Jess balked at stopping while they still had daylight. "A lotta trees ta cover us, though we don't need it, looks like. Don't look much like any rain comin' in t'night."

"Yeah, it looks pretty clear. How far do ya think your trees are?" Jess asked.

"Oh, meybe two hours er so if we keep a steady pace walkin'. The ground's gittin' harder, should make it easier fer the horses ta keep movin' faster some," the mountaineer prophesied.

Reaching into his saddlebag, Jess pulled out a bottle of medicine that Esmeralda gave him to help fight his fever. Even though the day was fairly warm, Jess felt a bit of a chill and worried that the fever might be returning.

"Feelin' poorly, boy?" Thomas asked as he noticed Jess taking a gulp of the potion.

"Not yet. Takin' some just in case," Jess lied. "Sure don't want to let that fever catch up with me again."

"How's about yer foot? Ya think we oughta stop an' doctor it?"

"Two or so hours to the other camp? I think it can wait. I'd rather ride as long as we can. Dependin' on daylight when we reach your camp, I might still want to keep ridin'. I've got a feelin' we're gettin' close to findin' Andy, and the sooner the better for me." Jess said, as he pushed the cork back into the bottle and returned it to his saddlebag.

The sun was getting low in the sky behind them by the time the weary pair reached the copse of trees where Thomas had camped previously. "This is it, Jess. See them bushes o'er thar, that's where I bedded down. Wasn't real dry, but better 'n out there in the open, the way it was a rainin' that night. I couldn't find me a comfy, dry ledge like ya found yerself," the older man teased.

"I'm thinkin' we should sleep more out in the open, it's still pretty wet in here. The sun hasn't had a chance to dry the grass much. Let's ride down closer to the river an' see if there's any dry places there. We can always come back up to the open land if it's still too wet. Besides, around the outside edge of these trees, we might find some drier wood so we can have us a fire," Jess suggested.

"Yeah, a fire sure would be nice," Thomas agreed with a smile, thinking about a hot meal and some fresh brewed coffee before bed and more for when they woke in the morning.

At the edge of the woods, and near the river, they found a high, dry place to set up their night camp. Thomas went to the woods and found some fairly dry wood and proceeded to build them a campfire. Jess shuffled through the supply bag to find some lamb chops that the gypsies had sent with them, as well as the coffee pot and a bag of already ground coffee beans, 'Good ole Jonesy, he thinks of everything,' Jess thought with a smile as he opened the cloth sack of coffee and inhaled the freshness of the grind.

It wasn't quite dark yet when the two men had finished their meal and were preparing their sleeping accommodations. "I'll git the water fer our mornin' coffee," Thomas said, picking up the coffee pot and carrying it to the river.

"Any coffee left in that pot?" Jess asked, not wanting to see any go to waste.

"Nope, empty as a widder's pocketbook," Thomas said as he demonstrated by turning it upside down to let the remaining few drops drain to the ground. "When I gits back, we'll doctor yer foot. Go ahead an' work at gittin' that boot thing loose," the older man said, pointing to Jess' sheepskin hide.

The sun was barely peeking over the eastern horizon when Thomas was up prepping the coffee pot and stoking the dying embers. Jess rolled over to watch him, grateful that the big man found him and was there to ride with him. Had Thomas not come along and found him under the overhang and brought him Jonesy's fever elixir, Jess conceded that he might have been coyote bait, and only his bones found someday if someone traveling in that direction and looked to see what might be tucked under the ledge. He wondered what would have happened to Traveler, tied to the tree. Would he have been able to work himself loose and go back to the ranch, or would he, too, have met his fate, maybe at the mercy of a wolf pack or a mountain lion. Jess shuddered at the thought. One more time he'd dodged the bullet and this time he might have also cost the life of his treasured horse had Thomas not come along.

"Come on, lazy one," Thomas said as he set the coffee pot on a rock in the midst of the fire. "Ya gonna sleep the day away? I got a feelin' today's the day we're gonna find that boy," he said with a broad smile. "Got that feelin' in my bones."

"I hope your right n' it's not just rain tuggin' at your bones, Thomas. If he's not on any of those other wagons, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm about at the end of my rope. We're all countin' on that Andy went after that girl. If…"

Thomas cut Jess off, "Now stop thinkin' like that. We're gonna find 'im. I feel it in m' bones, an' these ole bones don't do much lyin'. I always know when it's gonna rain, an' I'm feelin' somethin' in these ole bones, an' there's not a raincloud in sight. I reckon that it's a sign that we're gonna find that boy real soon. Let's take care of that foot of yers b'fore breakfast so's we kin set out as soon as I break camp."

"'I'm with ya there, Thomas," Jess replied as he rolled out from under his blanket and started to undo the rawhide strings that held the sheepskin in place. Not feeling that he really needed it, Jess reached for the potion that the gypsy woman gave him for his fever. He didn't feel any dizziness related to fever and feeling his forehead with the back of his hand, the cowboy was convinced that the fever was gone. To be on the safe side, he took a good swig of the bitter vetch, grimacing as it went down, but convinced that it was the one thing that was keeping him well enough to continue on the hunt for Andy.

Once camp was cleaned up, the two men set off following along the river. It wasn't long before they found the deep ruts left by the wagons that were traveling eastward along the river's edge. "It looks like these are the wagon tracks," Jess said excitedly, stretching in the saddle to see as far as he could, hoping that maybe the wagons were camped somewhere near and along the river. He realized that it was wishful thinking and that the wagons had probably continued along their route trying to catch up with the other troupe. He recognized that the heavy rain had to have slowed them down considerably. Now if only they'd stopped during the cloudbursts and didn't put a lot of miles between them. It was more than what he could hope for, as he offered up a silent prayer.

Morning was waning into noontime when Jess' eye caught what appeared to be brightly painted wreckage washing up along the riverbank. As they drew closer, it was obvious that it was a gypsy wagon that had been swept away in the raging river, probably during the storm. Slowly they rode along the river's edge, scanning the debris. Suddenly Jess spurred his horse on to where he noticed a wagon wheel tangled in some tree roots where the water had washed away the soil to expose them. The wheel was missing a good chunk of the round and some spokes. On one of the remaining radiating spokes Jess spotted an all too familiar item that almost caused his heart to stop.

Quickly, alighting from his horse, the dark-haired cowboy hobbled to the river's edge and tried to retrieve the object that he'd spotted. Being beyond his grasp, Jess looked along the bank to find a long, hooked branch. Returning to where the wagon wheel held the leather article, he probed at it until it came loose and he hooked it by its handle and drew it toward him on to the shore. Once it was within his reach, he quickly grabbed it, a fierce frown creasing his brow.

Taking the satchel with him away from the rushing water, Jess knelt down to open it, dumping the soggy contents on the ground.

Thomas joined him, standing only a few feet behind him, "What's that ya found, thar, Jess?" the old man asked.

Examining the contents, Jess lifted a gold pocket watch up in his hands, "it's Andy's school bag," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. Opening the watch, he dumped the water from it then carefully dried it, as best as he could, on his shirt. Looking at it, a cold dread spread across his chest and settled around his heart, he closed the lid on the timepiece and tucked it away in his jacket breast pocket. Next he picked up a water-laden shirt that he quickly identified as belonging to Andy. Holding it limply in his hands he stared at it with unseeing eyes, almost as if in a trance as he pictured the boy wearing it, playing in the yard with his animals.

His eye caught something red on the ground peeking out from under another familiar shirt. Gathering it up he noticed that there was a dark blue bandana under the red one he'd just picked up. At first he didn't comprehend what he was looking at, but then recognized the frayed edging on the blue neckerchief as being one of his own. Jess realized then that Andy had taken some remembrances of himself and Slim with him, along with his father's gold pocket watch. Another of Andy's shirts was still lying in the mud along with a few other small items that Jess recognized belonging to Andy, as well. Collecting the remaining items and wringing out the cloth items, Jess noticed a single holey sock that puzzled him. He picked it up to examine, wondering where its match might be. He'd already found the sock holding several coins that Andy kept in his drawer. What earthly value did a holey sock, with no match, have to Andy? Placing the last of the items in the book bag, there was no doubt in the Texan's mind to whom the items belonged to and the discovery tore at his innards. He felt like he'd been punched hard in the stomach, but this time he was sure that it was a blow from which he'd never recover.

Looking back at the river, Jess' eyes darted around, hoping yet not hoping, to find Andy in the river. Jess limped, carrying the satchel with him, to the river to search up and down at the varied debris. Wagon parts, smashed barrels, and homemade furniture items were all that he could see. There was no sign of Andy.

Jess slowly and unevenly walked back to his horse, carefully tying the saturated book bag to one of the saddle latigoes. Thomas silently watched, not knowing what to say. He, too, had been scouring the river looking for any sign of Andy, dead or alive.

Leading his horse, Jess started to shuffle along the edge of the river, looking amongst the wreckage, rocks dammed logs and twigs that lined the riverbank or congregated in small whirlpools in the still churning river. Thomas followed along, at first silently, then cautioned, "Jess, yer gittin' yer foot wet an' muddy. Git back on yer horse. We kin ride along. Higher up, we mights spot 'im quicker. If we spots him, I'll go in an' git 'im. That gypsy woman tole ya ta keep yer foot dry."

Jess nodded and turned to mount his horse, but could only lean his head against the saddle, too weak or too beaten to mount the patient horse. "Lemme help ya," Thomas offered, putting a hand on the drooping shoulder of the Texan that he admired, his own heart heavy with the burden of what they'd discovered. Jess refused the mountain man's offer by shrugging the man's hand from his shouder and pulled himself wearily up and into the saddle.

Once both men were mounted, they continued to follow along the river's edge hoping that they wouldn't come across the body of the boy they'd been seeking. They each said a silent prayer, hoping that if Andy were in the wrecked wagon that the people in the other wagon were able to pull him to shore and now he was safely riding with the others in the remaining wagon. The rutted trail ahead of them proved that the other wagon had survived the disaster.

Following the ruts along side of the river, they noticed that the wreckage debris in the river was now becoming sparse, but they hadn't given up looking for any sign of the missing boy. Against a pile of rocks, tangled in some branches, Jess spotted what appeared to be Andy's hat. As he climbed down from his horse, Thomas asked what Jess saw. Pointing to the hat, it was obvious that the cowhand intended to wade into the water to retrieve it. Thomas argued and reminded Jess that he had to keep his injured foot dry inside the sheepskin and volunteered to retrieve the waterlogged hat. Waiting for Thomas to wade out and recover the hat, Jess once again let his eyes comb up and down and along the riverbanks for as far as he could see. Hope remained that he might still find the Andy alive, maybe clinging to a branch or rock, or exhausted and resting on the shore.

Thomas handed Jess the recovered hat, and Jess looked it over, confirming that he was sure that it belonged to Andy. It was looking more and more like Andy was indeed on the wagon when it was washed away in the river. Andy surely would have been wearing his hat to deflect some of the rain from his face.

As the two riders rounded a bend, Jess spotted a mound where it appeared that two fresh graves had been created. Thomas, riding slightly behind and to the off side, his eyes on the river, heard Jess gasp for breath and grab for his chest, reining Traveler to a sudden halt. It was then that the older man noticed the rise. No wonder they hadn't found any bodies in the river. Those who died in the accident had been recovered and buried on the knoll before them. Thomas watched all the starch drain from the young man ahead of him as Jess nearly fell from his horse at the sight.

Approaching the rock-covered graves, Jess slid weakly off from his horse. His heart clenched painfully as his knees buckled. Falling to his knees on the still soggy ground, he shouted an anguished, "NO!" On his hands and knees, the taste of bile stinging his mouth, he reached out to the rocks piled to either side of him and choked out "no", once again, his head bowed. Raising his head, he looked heavenward and growled challengingly, "Why?" Jess was ready to take on whichever angel God might send to deal with him questioning His authority. He then lowered his head again, his bottom lip trembling as he pressed his forefinger and thumb to his eyes, forcing back the tears he felt welling up. Covering his eyes, as if to obliterate the sight before him, he rubbed mild little circles in his temples with his thumb and ring finger. He never wanted to open his eyes to the sight again, hoping that it was all a bad dream, but from the pain in his heart, the Texan conceded that it was all too real.

Thomas climbed down from his horse and walked to where Jess knelt huddled into himself, like that of a little boy lost, and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Not now, Thomas" Jess growled, his voice deep with emotion as he shrugged the older man's hand from his shoulder.

"Jess, there's nothin' ya kin do," Thomas pleaded as he looked down at the crumpled body of the crushed cowboy.

Stifling a sob, Jess said, "I know…I know," as he looked at the rock piles with narrowed eyes. Standing up, he turned to Thomas, "It's my fault. If I woulda set out sooner an' didn't follow the wrong trail…."

The older man stopped him, "Jess, you don't know that."

"Yes I do," Jess shouted angrily. "If I woulda left right away when Jonesy told me about Andy being missing, I mighta caught up with him before any of this happened." After a painful pause, Jess added, "What am I gonna tell Slim?" he mumbled as he almost choked on the words.

Thomas had no answers for the devastated cowboy. Hanging his head, the older man walked back to the horses and grabbed the reins to both, leading them to where Jess stood staring at the burial site.

"Jess," Thomas said to the motionless man before him. "Jess," he repeated. Still receiving no response, he again put a comforting hand on Jess' shoulder. "We haveta go. There's nothin' we kin do here. I think Slim really needs ta know what happened."

Jess continued to stare at the graves for a moment longer before he turned to look at Thomas who offered him Traveler's reins. Taking the reins from the older man, the Texan walked to the side of his horse and slowly pulled himself into the saddle and once again stared at the piled rocks that held the dirt securely over the dead bodies lying there. Spurring his horse, Jess started slowly riding to the east. "Hey, Jess! Where ya goin'?" Thomas asked as he mounted his own horse and started to follow after him. "The ranch is back this-a-way."

"I know, but I gotta find out what happened an' why," Jess murmured, riding slumped over in the saddle like a scarecrow with most of the stuffing knocked out of him.

"But what will that do ya?" the grizzled old man asked, anxious to end the misery of the whole ordeal.

"First, we don't know for sure if Andy's in one of those graves," Jess said with a spark of hope. "He could still be traveling up ahead in that gypsy wagon. I haveta be sure. I can't go back until I'm sure. If he's still alive, then we've found him an' I can take 'im back home. If he was in that wagon in the river, I haveta know what and why it happened. If he was never with any of those gypsies, we know we haveta keep searchin' somewhere else. Thomas, I gotta know for sure."

"Okay, Jess, I understand. I reckon a few more minutes can't hurt us in catchin' up with the wagon. We should stop n' put more salve in that boot. We don't want ya ta do all this n' end up losin' yer foot." Jess continued riding like he hadn't heard Thomas. "Please?" Thomas pleaded as he rode up beside the younger man, convinced that Jess was only ignoring him.

Pulling back on the reins, Jess stopped his horse and slid down to the ground as if there were virtually no bones in his body. He limped to a large rock and sat down, proceeding to remove the sheepskin. Pleased with himself, Thomas pulled out the pot of ointment and spatula. "Leeme git a gander at it," the older man said, setting the can down next to the rock. Jess lifted his foot for the mountain man to examin it, "Looks pretty good," he said, "still pink, not red, green er black. Them gypsies seem ta really know their way around fixin' things. I'm thinkin' it's workin' better than what ya got from that thar city doc," Thomas said with a small grin as he reached for the salve.

"I reckon it don't matter much now, Thomas. I'd just as soon die out here than haveta take the news back to Slim that Andy's buried out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Like ya said, ya don't know that yet. I'm still gittin' that feelin' in my bones that the boy is all right."

"A few minutes ago you were all fired ready to head back to the ranch. What's made ya change your mind?" Jess asked suspiciously.

"Don't rightly know, Jess. When I got up on that horse, I almost felt like I heard a boy whisperin' in m' ear."

"Yeah?" Jess asked dubiously, but with obvious hope and interest in his voice, "and what did he say?"

"Wasn't real clear, but it sounded a lot like he was sayin' that he wasn't here."

Jess morosely shook his head, "So does that mean that he's not in that grave, or does it mean that he's no longer here on this earth?"

Unable to look Jess in the eye, Thomas went about his work of plastering the salve on the wound. "I reckon I don't rightly know," he sadly replied, "but I had a feelin' he thinks yer on the right path followin' that wagon. I'm hopin' I'm right about it, Jess."

"Me, too, Thomas. If he's gone, I'll never forgive myself for everything that stopped me from leavin' the ranch sooner. I reckon I gotta keep the faith that we're gonna find him in that wagon. Hurry up, we're wastin' daylight. I wanna find that wagon before nightfall. If not, we're gonna ride until we do," Jess said, his determination unmistakable as some of the starch seemed to be recovered by his body.

 **Chapter 50**

The blast from the rifle scared the bear as much as the sudden pain he felt in his shoulder. He stood up on his hind legs to see what inflicted the pain, only to hear another loud discharge followed by another searing pain. He turned and ran back in the direction from where he'd come.

Cautiously, Andy stepped away from the tree that braced him from falling as his knees seemed to turn to jelly when the bear appeared to him. The bear was retreating in the direction of the trapper's cabin. Fear for the trappers, as well as for himself, flooded Andy's thoughts. He was holding the only firearm that the trappers owned and they wouldn't be able to protect themselves should the wounded animal run at them in its painful rampage.

Andy sensed that if he moved in the direction of the injured animal either within the woods or in the open, he could easily become the target for the animal's tormented rage. If he stayed put, the bear could circle around behind him as well. It seemed like no matter what choice he made, the youngster was damned, but at least he had the rifle. Feeling that he owed his life to the trappers for pulling him from the river and taking him in, he felt that he owed them the same protection. Andy decided that he'd have to take his chances and work his way back to the cabin. He carefully picked his way toward the edge of the woods, listening for any sound of branches cracking nearby and searching for any dark movement in any direction around him. Once in the open, he decided that farther out in the field he'd have a better chance at watching for a charging bear.

Watching constantly along the edge of the woods as he progressed toward the trapper's shack, Andy caught sight of Running Wolf moving quickly along the periphery and looking into the forest. "Running Wolf, get away from the woods!" Andy called, "Come out here!" Andy shouted and motioned with his hand.

The Indian boy heard Andy, but didn't understand what he was saying. After waving his acknowledgement to Andy, Running Wolf ran to meet him. As the Indian boy approached, he said, "I heard gunfire. Did you kill us a deer? Where is it?"

"No. No deer," Andy stammered, "I shot at a bear. I think I hit him, but he was still runnin'. I was afraid he might be headin' your way an' real mad an' might hurt someone. I thought I'd better get back with the rifle right away. He was headed your way near the edge of the woods. We better stay away from the trees."

"Bear," Running Wolf exclaimed, wide-eyed. "We haven't had bear meat in a long time. I think we should track 'im down."

"I don't know," Andy responded nervously. "Nothin' madder than a wounded bear."

"Let's git Pa. He'll know what ta do, but wouldn't he be proud if'n we found an' kilt that bear?" Running Wolf declared, unable to contain his excitement.

"Yeah, if he doesn't find us first," Andy qualified his response. "This ole rifle only stung him like a bee an' I sure don't wanna run into him again. If your pa wants to go lookin' for that bear, then that's up to him. I ain't about to go lookin' for him."

The two boys chattered loudly as they hiked back to the homestead. Neither of them was really that anxious for the bear to appear, the Indian boy knowing how difficult it would be for them to bring down a bear with their rather small caliber rifle. They used it mostly for close range shooting dangerous animals caught in their traps. Trapped, the animals were rarely an attacking danger.

Arriving at the cabin, the two boys entered to find Cal sitting at the table sipping at a cup of herbal tea. Looking up he said, "Well? I heared some gun shots. I hope ya weren't wastin' any of our bullets an' got us some real meat."

"Pa, Andy shot a bear."

"A bear?" the trapper excitedly shouted as he stood up from his chair, nearly sending the table for a tumble. "You got us a bear?"

"No, sir," Andy said as he looked downward toward his feet. "I hit it, I think twice, but it ran off. It might be headin' this way an' I wanted to get back here in case you needed the rifle. I know how angry a wounded bear can be."

"So why didn't ya track 'im?" Cal asked. "Mmmmm, bear steaks woulda done us good, what's wrong with ya, boy?"

"He was affeared that the bear might come after us an' wanted us ta have the rifle," Running Wolf came to Andy's defense.

"Okay, then," Cal said as he eyed Andy as the boy fingered the rifle standing with the butt on the ground and leaning against his leg. "Take us where ya shot 'im. We're all together an' we kin trail 'im."

Looking up and staring the trapper in the eye, Andy defiantly said, "No, sir. I won't go out there again an' look for him. He's dangerous an' ya might as well just throw rocks at him if you're gonna use this little rifle. I'll tell ya where ya can find his trail, but I'm not goin' out there."

Stepping forward with his hand raised to slap the boy, Cal said, "Why you little coward."

Running Wolf stepped forward and blocked his father's hand from striking Andy and almost received a blow for his interference, but ducked. "Pa, he came back ta protect us. That's not a coward."

Seeing his error, Cal lowered his raised hand and turned away from the two boys. Going back to the table, Cal picked up his cup of tea and took another gulp. "Okay, so you don't wanna go back out there an' look fer that bear. Me an' Wolf kin go lookin' fer 'im. Where did ya shoot 'im?"

"Out at the deer clearin'. He was just north of some trees where I was standin' watchin' for the deer," Andy replied. With that, Cal finished his tea and trod to where the two boys remained standing and grabbed the rifle away from Andy and started out the door.

Running Wolf looked at Andy, "Yer really not gonna come with us?" he asked. Andy shook his head no and walked farther into the cabin and sat down on the stool next to the fireplace.

"I seen that bear an' he's pretty big. He's hurt an' real angry, I 'spect. Your pa might be right, maybe I am a coward, but I reckon I'd rather be an a live coward than some bear's supper. I can't stop ya from goin', Runnin' Wolf, but I 'd really like to discourage ya. I don't wanna see ya get hurt," Andy paused, then continued, "or worse."

Before the Indian boy had a chance to turn away and step toward the door, they heard some shots fired not far from the cabin. Running Wolf ran for the door and opened it to see his father running toward the shack, the rifle in his raised hands and a bloodied bear charging close behind him.

Holding the door open for his father to clear the threshold, Running Wolf quickly slammed the door before the bear reached the small porched area. Like a barrage of cannon balls, the bear hit the doorway causing the little shack's windows to rattle.

Dropping the rifle, Cal started pushing the table toward the door along with any other heavy furniture he could move with the help of Running Wolf. Andy stood wide-eyed with his mouth gapping open watching what had just transpired. When he finally found his tongue, Andy said, "I told ya he was big an' dangerous. He can't get in, can he?"

Breathing heavily, Cal turned to Andy, "I reckon I owes ya an apology. Yer right, he's a biggun an' right dangerous. I put two more rounds in 'im an' he kin still run faster than me. Meybe he'll bleed out," the trapper said, just as another resounding crash came to the front of the cabin. "I'm goin' out that trap door on the roof. I'll fire down on 'im. Meyebe I kin git me a heart shot," Cal said, his voice raspy, as he moved a chair to where there was a small door above their heads.

That evening there was fresh bear meat on the trapper's table. It was probably as close to a celebration that had been held in the little cabin for a long time. There was more than enough meat to go around, though the vegetables were slim pickings.

"I reckon we kin thank ya, Andy, fer the fine feast on our table. I'm sorry I didn't trust in yer instinct about that bear. If that bear'd found me farther away from the cabin, I reckon he woulda been feastin' on me instead," Cal said with a wink at the boys. "Looks like we'll have a lot of curin' the meat ta do the next couple a days, an' that big skin, too bad fer all the bullet holes though."

Andy acknowledged the praise with just a nod, but didn't reply. His mind was on the conversation he'd overheard earlier said between the two. He figured that even though they were grateful at the moment, they probably still had no intentions of taking him to Fort Collins. If nothing else, maybe he'd proved himself even more valuable and they'd be even more reluctant to allow him to leave. With all the bear meat, would they allow him to go hunting for deer in the near future, allowing Andy to run away? If he were to try and escape to Fort Collins on his own, he'd have to do it soon. The weather couldn't be depended on to hold out much longer this late in the season and Andy didn't know how long he'd be on the trail to Fort Collins.

 **Chapter 51**

Having won the battle with the doctor, Slim sat with his leg up on a chair, watching Jonesy as he busily gathered items for the laundry. Still not authorized to use the crutches yet, at least he was no longer confined to his bed. Doc Riley promised that he could start using them in another week. He couldn't wait to have that small bit of more freedom, but for now, this would do.

"Reckon I might as well change your bed now that you're not using it," Jonesy said, still showing his disapproval of Slim no longer confined to his room. He liked being away from the blonde man, always afraid that the topic of Andy's disappearance and not telling him immediately might once again pop up, though in his heart Jonesy felt that he hadn't paid his full penance.

"Jonesy, could I bother you a minute?" Slim asked, with a slight dimpled smile and slant of his head.

"Sure, what do you need," Jonesy asked as he set the armful of dirty garments in the rocking chair by the fireplace that Jess favored.

"I'd go get it myself, but I'm schure you might have a kitten or two if I tried," Slim said, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the tenseness that continued to show in Jonesy's demeanor.

Working himself up into a huff, the older man admonishedd, "You know you're not suppose to be up and around. If you fall again, why you know…"

Slim cut him off, "I just wanted to ask you if you'd get me a book or two off the shelf."

"Oh," Jonesy said, his tense shoulders relaxing a little, "Anything in particular?" he asked.

"Oh, the horse doctoring book and that old history one, the one about the Revolutionary War should do," the injured man requested.

After retrieving the books for his employer, Jonsey pulled a chair away from the table and sat it down next to the couch where Slim was reclining. "I reckon we've had our say on what's happened here, and I reckon I was wrong to not tell you about Andy. You see, Slim, I was really trying to protect you, I hope you understand that," Jonesy said, his head lowered, unable to look his boss straight in the eye.

Slim reached his hand forward and patted the older man's forearm, "I know, Jonesy. You did say all that, maybe not in those words, and I do understand. Jonesy, it's only a broken leg, not something life-threatening. You should've told me right away. Maybe me and Jess could have figured something out. It might have been early enough that Mort could have helped. Not telling me, well, time was wasted. Now you tell me that Jess is hurt. I hate to see him out there, maybe endangering his own health, if we could have made different plans."

"I know, Slim. I was wrong and I reckon I did wrong by not sitting harder on that boy while you were gone. I'm sure that I might've been the reason he ran away. I was a bit hard on him, that's probably what he ran away from, but if I'd kept better watch on him, kept him away from that gypsy girl, I think none of this would have happened."

"Jonesy, we don't know about any of this right now. Maybe you're right that he followed after that girl. Dragos thinks that it could be possible. If Andy's out there and there's any way for Jess to find him, you can be sure he will and he'll bring Andy back home. It's done and over, we can't change things that happened up to now. All we can do is hope that Andy comes back home to us safe and sound and we can deal with what happened then. Now go do your laundry. I want to take advantage of the daylight and get some reading done before it gets too dark. Apology accepted."

Jonesy rose from his chair, his shoulders still slumped, but grateful for the forgiveness of his benefactor. Even if Slim didn't totally blame him for Andy being missing, at least he understood his motive in holding back the information. As he replaced the chair at the table, Jonesy's thoughts turned to Jess out on the trail looking for the wayward boy and he whispered a prayer for Jess' safety and health. Picking up the rumpled pile of dirty clothing he'd left in the rocking chair, his thoughts turned to Andy and again he offered up a prayer for the boy's safety and for his return home to his loved ones. The same appeals he'd been repeating often over the past few days.

As the day wasted away, Jonesy caught Slim napping on the couch. He picked up a blanket and covered the lanky man, causing him to stir and his eyes open. A lazy smile spread across his lips as he looked up at the cantankerous old man. "Don't you ever take that hat off, Jonesy?" Slim drawled.

"I'll have supper done real soon," Jonesy said, ignoring the question he'd been asked on several occasions, almost a standing joke in the household, as he collected the books from his boss' lap. "Do you want to eat out here or do you want me to help you to your room. Maybe you'd be more comfortable in your bed," the older man suggested.

"I think I'd rather stay here for now. My leg's not throbbing at the moment. If I move it, it might start hurting again and ruin my appetite," the tall man replied with a lopsided smile that revealed only one dimple. "I'm sure you would have woke me if there was any news, but just in case," he smiled showing both dimples this time, "is there any news from Jess?" he asked.

"Nope, not a word. I reckon, if he gets near any town that he'd send us something. I doubt those gypsies travel much near any towns."

"Oh, but they do, Jonesy. Dragos told me how they sell their wares, potions, lotions, and other medicinal things. They have storytellers and fortunetellers, all kinds of things they sell. You should've gone with us out to the camp that night. They really are an interesting bunch of folks. They love their music and seem to never want to stop dancing. It was quite a night, too bad you missed it."

Under his breath, Jonesy harrumphed as he turned to return to the kitchen, bringing another amused smile to Slim's lips as he thought, 'Jonesy, you'll never change, but we love you anyway.'

"Look ahead," Thomas said excitedly as he spotted a brightly painted wagon on the trail ahead of them. Jess had missed it. His full attention was still directed at watching the river and the banks for any sign of Andy, his field glasses scanning the opposite shore. Putting them down, Jess gazed ahead and without a word spurred his horse in the direction of the slow moving wagon that had two draft horses tied to the rear. Catching up with it, Jess rode to the front and pulled at the reins of the lead horse causing the driver to pull up and stop the wagon.

Confused, Testa stumbled over his English before asking who Jess was and why he was there to stop them, nervously thinking that Jess was a highwayman stopping to rob him. Katia came forward from the back of the vardo and looked out from the curtain to see why the vardo had stopped. She recognized the handsome cowboy from the time he'd spent at the camp back at the ranch. She smiled and said "Hello," as she climbed into the seat next to her husband. "You remember him, Testa," Katia said to her husband, "Jess, isn't it?" she asked, as Jess tipped his hat to her and nodded his head in affirmation.

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, Jess immediately asked about Andy. The couple looked at each other and both heads shook in unison with their negative knowledge of the boy. They then relayed their story about what had happened when Ion's wagon slid and tumbled into the river. As far as they were aware, only Ion was in the wagon, but they'd seen what appeared to be someone else riding the rapids in the river as they tried to save Ion. They also admitted that Crina had jumped into the river, crying out a name that they didn't recognize, perhaps the name of the boy that Jess was seeking. Relaying the drowning details and recovery of Ion and Crina, Jess then understood that neither of the graves that he and Thomas found contained Andy's body. He was both relieved and concerned over the findings. His hunt for the boy would have to continue, he resolved. Until Andy was found, he couldn't give up.

From what Jess and Thomas could gather, Andy had probably been traveling with Ion, was lost in the river and that the couple was really unaware of his presence. They said that they lost sight of the person that they saw in the river. Jess reckoned that it had to have been Andy. The couple assured Jess that they'd looked for the other person they'd seen struggling in the current but lost sight of him before they recovered the bodies and buried them. After they restarted their travel, they watched the water but never saw any sign of anyone after the one glance they'd garnered at the time of the accident when Crina jumped into the raging water.

Jess was now sure that Andy was lost in the river, unless he somehow pulled himself to shore somewhere. They hadn't passed any homesteads along the way for the boy to drift to. If he were still out there he'd be wandering around in the wilderness, probably trying to find his way home. Jess' eyes unconsciously scanned the horizon to their northwest.

Thanking the couple and expressing his sympathy for their loss, Jess refused their hospitality of offering to stop and set up a cooking camp. Jess opted to turn back to the west and continue to search for Andy on his way back to where the wagon had fallen into the river. Jess wasn't quite ready to give up on the river yet, though. Since they were going to backtrack, he was going to continue to scour the water and banks for any sign of the boy

Riding into the setting sun made the search far more difficult. Jess now regretted not taking the gypsies up on their cooking camp and making it their own stop for the night. He was sure that the gypsies would have settled there for the night as well, had he accepted their offer. He and Thomas would have had a good meal, company for the evening and then a good breakfast to look forward to in the morning. Now all he had to look forward to was a few rations left in the supply sack and another night on the trail. At least they still had the river close by with plenty of drinking water and water to brew more coffee. Jonesy made sure he'd provided plenty of ground beans, for which Jess was grateful. They'd run out of food before they ran out of coffee, but there was always a rabbit or two, maybe a pheasant, that could make for a fitting dinner, if need be.

Glancing at the river, one more time, Jess' face lit up as he thought to search his saddlebags. He was in luck. He found some line and a couple of hooks. As Thomas set up camp, Jess went to the river's edge, lifted a few rocks and found some juicy earthworms, threaded the hook and sank the line in the water. Tonight, with a little luck, they'd have fish for dinner, and maybe some left over for breakfast, too.

Casting his line into the river, the bait broke the surface of the water. Jess fixed his gaze on where the lure made its gentle splash. Soon the waters began to swirl as the fish cautiously analyzed their meal, but not quite drawn to bite and take hold of the hook. Almost immediately, memories of sneaking off from the daily chores to fish with Andy, without his brother's knowledge, flooded Jess' thoughts. The remembrance brought a hint of a small, sad smile to Jess' lips. Thoughts then flooded his mind of the few, rare and lazy Sunday picnics at the fishing hole where Jonesy, Andy and Slim joined him in fishing, one of Jess' favorite pastimes. Often the outings ended up with one or more of them swimming in the pool, either voluntarily or at the whim of someone's foolishness. Again, a smile appeared as he recalled how they'd threaten to throw Jonesy into the water, only to have him plead that he couldn't get his signature bowler wet. They'd only been teasing him or they would have thrown the older man in the water for a swim after making sure that his precious derby was safe and sound. Jess could hear the ringing sound of Andy's laughter at the prospect of Jess and his brother tossing the struggling Jonesy into the small lake against his protests.

Andy lay awake well into the night. He could hear Running Wolf breathing evenly, while Cal snored loudly from the cot he slept on near the kitchen.

He'd been thinking about it since supper and decided that tonight would be the night he'd try to make his get away. At least with the injured bear no longer on the prowl, Andy had one less thing to worry about. The scared boy knew that stealing a horse was considered a hanging offense, but he had to chance it. After all, he was only going to be borrowing it and he'd make sure that the animal would be returned once he reached Fort Collins. His real regret was in taking the rifle with him. He didn't want to be out in the wilderness without protection and hated to leave the trappers without defense, but he rationalized that at least they were home and not out where they would be in constant danger of predators or unfriendly Indians. It was Andy's only choice as far as he could see it. He'd find some way to get the rifle and horse returned to Cal.

Sleeping in their clothes was normal for the trapper and his son, so Andy took full advantage of that habit, sleeping in his own over the past few days as well. He only had to slip on his boots and he would be ready to be on his way. Quietly he sat up and no one was disturbed. He then reached for his boots and stood up with them in his hand. If caught, he'd say he was going outside to relieve himself. As he tiptoed toward the door, Cal let out a loud snort in his sleep, scaring Andy enough that he froze in mid step. Once Andy was sure that the trappers were still sound asleep, he reached on the nail for his jacket, then the rifle leaning against the wall and slipped out the door into the nearly total darkness.

The moon was partially hidden behind a cloud. It wasn't quite a full moon, it had been waxing the last night or two, but if the clouds cleared, there would be some light for the boy to see well enough to find his way to the deer trail that went down the giant slope.

Andy made his way to where the horses were corralled. Leaving the door open, in the semi-darkness, he found a bridle, a saddle blanket, and the only saddle in the tiny tack room beside the lean-to. Feeling along the wall he stumbled upon a rifle scabbard. It didn't take him long to prepare the horse for his escape and slide the rifle into its sling. After thinking it over, Andy decided to take the other two larger, wagon horses with him to at least the clearing before letting them go. He figured that the horses would wander back home, but if they weren't waiting in the corral and were hard enough to catch, it might take Cal longer to come looking for him.

Leading all three horses out from their containment, Andy climbed up on the smaller horse and took hold of the ropes he'd secured to the other two and slowly started to lead them away from the homestead. He wished that he'd had time to find an easier way down the ridge, but was confident that the horse would have little trouble on the deer trail incline.

The moon played hide and seek, more hiding than not, but the edge of the woods was a good guide for the boy as he hugged close to it, hoping that he wouldn't have the bad luck of running into another bear. It was easy enough and there was just enough light for Andy to see when he'd gotten to the drop off. From there he figured that he could pick his way through the woods and to where Cal had showed him where the deer made a trail coming up the slope into the high forest from the valley below.

Getting off the horse, Andy led all the animals into the woods and carefully worked his way toward the steep deer trail. The moon didn't help much, even when it came out from behind the clouds. The overhead canopy blocked almost any light from the forest floor. The scariest part was that he couldn't always be sure if there would be solid ground in front of him. He reached out with each footstep to feel that there would be safe footing beneath him. Luckily, when he'd reached the deer trail the sky was nearly cloudless and the brighter display within the shadows showed him the opening as if there were a door in the midst of all the trees.

Holding on tight to the reins of the paint horse, Andy chased the other two horses off in the direction of the deer clearing, hoping that they wouldn't be tempted to follow him, and would eventually graze their way back to the trapper's cabin.

Taking a deep breath, Andy climbed back on top of the brown painted gelding and held on to the saddle tightly, hoping that the horse would be surefooted enough to be able to handle the steep trail. The horse slid a few times on the descent, sitting on his haunches during the slides then regaining his footing. Andy held his breath and thought that his heart hadn't beaten for the whole ride down to the valley floor, but now it pounded like it wanted to leap out from his chest. It would have been a scary ride in daylight, but the moonlight made it even more hair-raising. But then, if he could have seen some of the dangers he'd avoided, maybe the ride in daylight would have been even more unnerving.

Reaching the bottom of the slope, the dark-haired teen searched for what looked like it might be a trail. Something wide and worn enough to indicate that wagon trains passed through on a regular basis. He knew that he had to head east to find Fort Collins, so he zigged and zagged through the valley in an easterly direction until he came across a well worn wagon rutted trail.

 **Chapter 52**

As the sun peeked over the horizon in the east, its glare caused the old mountain man to stir in his blankets. He groaned as he reached under the ground tarp to pull out a small stone that had imbedded itself in his back while he'd slept; now causing him considerable bruised pain. After tossing the stone aside, he sat up and rubbed the abraded area. He glanced at Jess, only to find that he was once again facing the wrong end of a six-shooter as Jess laid the half cocked hammer back down to rest. Shamefaced, Jess laid his head back down on his saddle and mumbled his apology to Thomas.

"How do ya do that?" Thomas asked the Texan. "I never even heared ya move, much less cock that shooter of yers. Do ya sleep with it already cocked an' in yer hand er somethin'?"

"Sorry, Thomas, just a habit I picked up when I was on the drift. Ya never knew when a sneaky four or two-legged critter might creep up on ya. I'm kinda gettin' over it, but I guess sleepin' out here in the wide open is bringin' back my bad habits," Jess confessed, surprised at his own response to Thomas' tossing the stone. If Thomas had tossed the stone farther away or elsewhere, Jess might have been pointing his gun in another direction. Unfortunately, Thomas only flicked it a foot or two away from where Jess was bedded.

"So, ya wuz on the run then?" Thomas asked, eyeing Jess suspiciously.

"No, not really. Just learned to be real cautious. If I wasn't, I'd've been dead a long time ago, I reckon. The world is full of all kinds of folks, n' some of 'em ain't so good. I've met a lot of the wrong kinda folks. Maybe I'm too cautious, maybe not. I'm sorry if I scared ya. Just remember to freeze if you're lookin' down the barrel end of my gun," Jess chuckled, to hide his embarrassment, "it'll keep ya alive. I promise."

"Not real comfortin', Jess. Remind me not ta sneeze when yer sleepin'," Thomas said as he threw back his blanket and stood up, rubbing his bruised back.

Getting up and rolling up his bedroll, Jess joined Thomas next to the fire, taking a stick and stirring the embers and adding a few more sticks to the glowing ashes.

"Ya know, Jess, I was a thinkin'," Thomas began, as he rummaged through the food sack finding some apples to share for breakfast and handed one to Jess. Fishing supplied their dinner, but there wasn't enough fish nibbling to allow them any for breakfast, "It sounds like the boy wuz in the river an' we bin lookin' on this side fer him. What if he washed up on the other side?"

"I was watchin' the other side, too. Unless he pulled himself out on that side n' wandered away from the river, he's not there. I woulda seen him with the field glasses," Jess said as he put the coffee pot over the fire to brew.

"That's it, though, Jess. If he did git hisself outta the water on the other side, meybe he's on the wrong side of the river ta git hisself home."

Jess considered the older man's thoughts, knowing that it was all too possible. Any chance of finding Andy alive was worth the try. "So, where do ya think we can cross the river?" Jess asked, as he stood up and looked at the morning's more lazy movement in the current.

"Don't rightly know. Yer from these parts, is there any bridges near here?"

"Nah, none that I know about anyway. We sure didn't pass any along the trail, not even one washed out."

"Let's doctor yer foot while we waits fer the coffee so we kin git back ta ridin'. Iffin we finds a way across, do ya think we should try, er do ya think we should keep lookin' fer the boy on this side?" Thomas asked, as he reached to pull the saddlebags closer to him and fished for the salve and spatula.

Uncertain, Jess looked toward the river as he unwound the leather strings that held the sheepskin on his foot and leg. "I don't wanna leave any stone unturned n' I sure don't wanna go back to the ranch without Andy. I don't know, Thomas. I just don't know." Despair dripped from his final words as he held his injured foot forward for Thomas to apply the salve. "If he made it out of the river, I hope he's safe n' has somethin' to eat n' drink.

Andy traveled far into the night, for as long as the moon allowed him to see the trail as it unfolded before him. He wondered if he'd better take cover during the day so that Cal couldn't find him easily, though he figured that Cal was probably an expert tracker, and Andy realized that he was doing nothing to cover his tracks. He also recognized that both he and his horse needed to rest. He had no food with him and his stomach was already complaining about being empty. He'd remembered to bring a canteen so he took a long swallow, hoping that it would soothe his hunger pangs.

The sun rising before him, Andy squinted as he looked far ahead, hoping that Fort Collins would be within his sight. He was aware that it was wishful thinking since he'd asked Running Wolf how long it took them to get to town. Since he could travel faster by horseback than by wagon, Andy hoped that the time would be cut considerably, but realistically, it wasn't true. The horse he was riding and was lazy and wouldn't break into more than a slow trot when Andy used the reins to urge him on.

"Come on, boy," Andy said as he turned his horse toward a piling of rocks to the south side of the trail. "Let's rest up some till the sun's outta our eyes. At least you kin have some breakfast," the teen said as he patted the horse's neck as they made their way to the shaded area.

Cal woke shortly after the sun started to lighten the woods behind the little cabin. It was dark enough inside that he didn't notice that one of the makeshift sleeping pads on the floor near the fireplace was now unoccupied. In his stocking feet, he proceeded to the kitchen stove and stirred the ashes, hoping there would still be enough heat to catch some kindling on fire. He put some twigs and dried leaves into the stove, blowing lightly at the smoke that was cuddling the new fuel. A small flame finally arose and started licking eagerly at its renewed sustenance. As the blaze spread, the trapper put larger sticks and finally a log into the growing, controlled inferno.

Scratching at his chest as he pulled his suspenders in place over his shoulders, Cal walked to where Running Wolf was lightly snoring and gave him a nudge with is foot, bringing the boy to a confused consciousness, his mind still lost in a dream. "Git up, boy." Cal growled, and motioned toward the other pile of blankets, "An' git him up t' go chop us more wood. Put a log er two on that fire, too," the older man said, pointing toward the fireplace. "I wanna heat a pot of water in there, so don't pile it too high."

Running Wolf sat up and rubbed his eyes as his father walked back to the kitchen to rustle some pots and pans in preparation of their breakfast. Reaching in the dimly lit room to the other bedroll, the Indian boy was shocked to find that it was empty but then thought that maybe Andy had gotten up to use the outhouse before either of them were awake. Getting up, he threw some logs on the dying coals in the fireplace then proceeded to roll up his blankets, expecting Andy to come through the door at any moment to pick up his own bedding.

Putting the folded blankets on the shelf, where they were kept during the day, Running Wolf joined his father in the kitchen. "Where's Andy?" Cal asked as he busily sliced at a slab of bacon.

"Probably outside, ya know, mornin' stuff," Running Wolf said as he walked to a window, opened it, and relieved himself. "Ya know how them city folks are, wantin' their privacy an' all," the boy said haughtily as he closed the window.

Cal put the bacon in the heated pan. As it sizzled he looked in the basket next to the stove to count the eggs. "We could use a few more eggs. Go fetch some an' tell that boy t' git out there an' choppin' some wood. Tell 'im we'll let 'im know when breakfast is on the table. We don't need him lollygaggin' around here when there's work t' do."

The Indian boy went to where his boots were sitting and picked them up, carrying them to the stool next to the fireplace and put them on. He then went outside to do his father's bidding. First he went to the henhouse and gathered up as many eggs as he could handle in one hand and held them against his chest. He then went to the outhouse and knocked on the door, expecting to hear Andy's voice from the other side. Getting no response, Running Wolf pulled the door opened to find that the little shed was empty. Before panicking, he quickly strode to the back of the cabin to see if Andy might already be at work with his morning chores. There he found the axe handle angled and stuck into the chopping block, as it normally stood when it wasn't in use. Andy was nowhere in sight. He called out, but getting no response, he already thought that it was possible that Andy might have run off. He knew Andy wasn't happy and wanted to go home, and in his heart Running Wolf didn't blame him.

Hurrying to the house, the Indian boy dropped two of the eggs that he'd been clutching close to his chest and swore under his breath as some of the yolk spattered the toe of his boot. Opening the cabin door, another egg dropped to the floor. His father would be angered by his blunder, but he hoped that the news of Andy's disappearance might soften any blow than might come from his father's temper and all too fast open hand.

"What do ya mean, he's gone," Cal demanded as he eyed the dark-haired halfbreed standing near the door with the egg splattered at his feet.

Stepping over the mucousy splotch on the cabin floor, Running Wolf walked past his father and put the remaining three eggs in the basket next to the stove. "I looked all over fer 'im, Pa. I can't find 'im anywhere," the boy responded, fully expecting to have to duck a blow from his agitated father.

Picking up the frying pan and placing it off to the cooler side of the stove, Cal spun around to look toward the door, immediately noticing that the rifle was no longer standing in its assigned place. At first he thought that perhaps Andy had gone out hunting, but that notion passed after rethinking about how much the boy hated to see animals killed and that there was plenty of meat for them to eat after killing the bear. The trapper ran to the porch in his stocking feet and peered out over the open area from his vantage point. Reentering the house, he pulled on his boots and took a walk around the cabin, calling out into the woods for Andy. Not getting a reply, he returned to the house.

"Breakfast is almost ready. I want ya ta go out an' saddle up m' horse an' bring 'im here. We'll eat, then I'll go lookin' fer 'im. You stay here an' look after the traps. It shouldn't take me long ta find 'im," Cal said as he returned to the stove and slammed the frying pan down over the burning log, causing one piece of bacon to jump from the pan. Using a fork, he resettled the meat as he reached for the basket of eggs. In the meantime, Running Wolf was busy cleaning up the broken egg from the floor, hoping his father hadn't noticed or would forget about it and not punish him for wasting their precious food. "Never mind that now," Cal snarled, "git that horse saddled like I tole ya!"

Dropping the rags that he'd been using to clean up the mess, Running Wolf rushed out through the door and headed to where the horses were kept. With the lean-to blocking the whole view, he was surprised when he arrived at the fence and saw, shaking his head, part in fear and part in disbelief, that there were no horses in the corral. They hadn't escaped it was quite obvious since the gate was still tightly secured. Terror hit him in the stomach, as if he'd been literally punched. He was afraid to tell his father, knowing that his father would find that it was somehow his fault that Andy was able to slip out from the house without any of them hearing him. He was too well acquainted with his father's temper and no matter who was at fault Cal would have to take his anger out on whoever might be close at hand.

Slowly meandering back to the cabin, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as he could, Running Wolf had no alternative but to tell his father what he'd found.

Cal was placing the eggs from the frying pan on two plates on the table as the boy entered. From the look on his son's face, Cal could tell that something wasn't right. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "What's wrong?"

Unable to look at his father, the boy shuffled his feet slightly as he looked down at his boots and said, "The horses are gone."

"What do ya mean, they're gone?" Cal shouted as he rushed to the door opened it and looked out, almost knocking over his son in the process. Once again he scanned the area, this time looking for horses as well as for Andy, but there was nothing before him but the open field, the river to his right and the woods behind the cabin. Once again he circled the house, calling out Andy's name in a booming voice. The echo in the woods dislodged a bevy of doves and the crackle of twigs breaking could be heard as some of the wild animals took to their heels from the ruckus.

The trapper then ran in long, pounding strides, the earth thundered and quaked under his footsteps, as he arrived at the corral to see for himself that the horses were indeed gone. He'd hoped upon all hope that his son might have been "funning" him, maybe a prank thought up between the two boys. If it were, those boys wouldn't be able to walk or sit down for a week once he got done with them, the angry man fumed.

Going back into the house, Cal stalked to the table, yanked out a chair and sat down. "Might as well eat, boy. We got some walkin' t' do. First, we gotta check the traps, then we gotta go lookin' fer Andy an' the horses an' bring 'em back. He's gotta learn that ya can't go stealin' a man's gun er his horses either. He's not gonna like bein' locked up in the tannin' shed. It smells bad enough with the door open. Can't imagine what it might be like bein' all closed up an' all," Cal said with a calculating grin. "Once we're done checkin' the traps, you stay here. I'll go hunt the boy down. Tuggin' those old horses behind 'im hadda slow 'im down some. I might be gone a day er so t' catch 'im, so yer gonna haveta keep the traps goin' an' do the skinnin' an' dressin'. Save what meat ya kin, we'll smoke it when I git back."

Running Wolf was feeling very uneasy about what his father said about locking Andy in the shed, but he wasn't going to argue with him. They'd discussed chaining Andy in the shed when they went to town before. Running Wolf didn't like the idea anymore now than he did then. He was happy, though, that Cal hadn't found it to be his fault that Andy had run away. Running Wolf would agree with anything his father said, anything to keep the cruel man from taking any of his rage out on him.

The two trappers were busy disposing of the animals they'd caught in their traps over night when Running Wolf spotted the two horses slowly grazing their way across the field and back toward the house. They were still a good mile away, but within easy distance to go fetch them. Cal continued to work with the dead animals sending his son out to round up the horses. With each horse dragging a lead line, they were easy enough for the Indian boy to catch and lead them back to the house.

With no saddle, Cal was forced to pull himself up on the big-boned draft horse and ride bareback. It didn't take him long to pick up on the trail that Andy left, riding along the outside of the woods. Looking back on the guided tour that he'd given Andy, he now regretted showing the boy how the deer were able to get from the valley below to the high forest behind the little cabin. He was sure that that was where the boy had gone.

Following the river, Jess and Thomas came again to where the debris from the wagon was at its thickest. Getting down from his horse, Jess hobbled along the edge, leading his horse and once again getting criticism from Thomas about muddying the sheepskin. Since there had been no seepage through the lanolin rich skin before, Jess ignored the mountain man's protests and continued to examine the wreckage, just in case Andy's body might be caught up on some of it and slightly under the surface where they may have missed him before.

Jess' eyes scanned the water from bank to bank. Taking out his field glasses once again he was able to get a better look at the other bank of the river. Then he spotted it. There was smoke coming from a wide stance of trees at the other side of the river. He couldn't see a house, but from the trailing of smoke, it looked to him that it could be coming from a chimney. "Look, Thomas," Jess said as he handed the older man the binoculars and pointed to where he saw the whisper of smoke swaying in the air. It took Thomas a few minutes of searching, but he finally saw what Jess was all fired up about. Yes, there was smoke, and it looked very much like it could be coming from a chimney as Jess theorized.

"We gotta find a place to cross here," Jess said, the determination bringing back the starch that had been missing from his body as he hopped back into the saddle with an energy that Thomas hadn't seen from the younger man since they rode into Laramie.

"Swimin' the horses in that current is dangerous," the mountaineer warned as he followed the cowboy along the bank as he combed the river for a likely place where they could cross. But Jess didn't respond. His mind was made up, and Thomas had already found that there was no arguing with Jess when he was determined and had his mind set on something. Nope, he just might as well keep quiet and follow along. Arguing would just be a waste of breath and time, Thomas figured.

After twenty minutes, Jess found a place where there appeared to be no eddies that indicated a strong current and rocks causing a dangerous crossing. The water was running smooth and easy. "We'll cross here," he decided, as he spurred Traveler into the river. Reluctantly, Thomas followed, his horse giving him some trouble about wanting to take the initial plunge, but the animal finally cooperated, following Traveler as he made his way through the water, now chest high on the horses.

Jess lifted his injured leg over the saddle horn, hoping that the water wouldn't get much deeper and he could keep the sheepskin as dry as possible. Luckily, he'd chosen a good spot to cross and before long the horses were finding footing that allowed them to only be slightly over knee deep most of the way.

Reaching the opposite bank, the mud was slippery and the horses had trouble finding purchase to pull themselves and their riders out from the water. Looking down stream, Jess noticed a dip in the bank and turned his horse in that direction. It was a shallower climb, but much muddier, causing the horses to bog down in the mud before they reached the shore. Jess was able to plunge himself to the shore, sliding through the wet grass and mud while holding tight to Travelers reins. With encouragement he helped the trusting horse to pull himself free of the mud, now easier with the extra weight lifted from his back. "Ya haveta get off," Jess shouted to Thomas as he struggled with urging his horse toward the bank. "Toss me his reins. I'll get him out n' up here, then I'll help ya get outta the water. Sorry, Thomas, it's the only way you can get up here."

Thomas begrudgingly slid off his horse after tossing Jess the reins. He was nearly armpit deep in the water, but there was very little current to knock him down or carry him off. Jess pulled at the horse and motivated him with soft words. Finally Thomas' horse was on solid ground.

The mountain man slowly waded through the water, but refused to try and climb where the horses had bogged down, opting to going further downstream a few feet to where there were some tree roots were exposed and he could use them to help pull himself out from the water. His only mistake was, he stepped in a hole and his whole body disappeared before he resurfaced, sputtering and spouting, "It ain't even Saturday an' here I am havin' ta take a bath, m' ears an' all." Jess had to chuckle while he limped to where the mountain man was struggling to pull himself up on the shore. Reaching his hand out, Jess grabbed the old-timer's wrist, while Thomas clung to one of the roots. Between the two of them, Thomas was finally on dry, well nearly, dry land.

On shore, they both took a deep breath, a sigh of both relief and exhaustion while looking around at their surroundings. In the distance they could see a small cabin with some out buildings near the woods to their east. Sitting down, Thomas pulled off his boots and drained the water from them, grumbling about how long it took him to dry out from all the rain and here he was soaked through once again. Jess knew better. He was aware that the old mountain man had a slicker and hadn't been soaked by the storm, but he let it go, since it probably made Thomas feel better if he could vent some of his frustration. "I hates wet socks," Thomas mumbled as he slipped one holey remnant back on his foot after wringing it out.

 **Chapter 53**

After a quick nap, Andy woke to find that the sun had climbed considerably in the sky and would no longer be in his eyes as he continued eastward. His stomach ached from hunger and the teen wished that he could have gotten away with at least a day's worth of food, but it would have been impossible to not get caught rifling through the trappers food supplies. If caught, they may have locked him in the bloody shed and he never would have gotten another chance to get away.

The horse grazed nearby and was gentle enough for Andy to walk right up to him. Praising the animal, Andy rubbed the animal's shoulder as he cooed to him quietly. Looking back on the trail that he'd covered, it looked clear. There was no sign of Cal following after him, at least not yet.

Andy examined and cleaned the horse's hooves, adjusted the saddle and cinch before mounting, as Slim and Jess had always instructed him in the past. More memories of home flooded his thoughts as he pictured Jess scolding him once for not checking his horse's feet before setting out on a long ride, renewing his homesickness before starting along the Conestoga rutted trail, heading eastward once again. The horse had a pleasant jogging gait, so Andy took advantage by putting a few more miles between himself and Cal's cabin when the lazy horse cooperated. During the night, he had to take his time, unable to see the trail ahead of him and he let the horse pick his way, hoping not to hit any chuckholes along the route. It would be rare for any animals to burrow in a well-traveled area, but if there was one new in the neighborhood, a hole could always be possible.

Just past noon, Andy heard a horse coming up from behind him. Panic grabbed his heart and he tried to kick his horse to a gallop. The easy-going horse refused to go any faster than a hurried trot. Leaning forward, the boy tried to yell in the animal's ear to encourage him on, but the horse refused to do any more than his heated trot. Andy could hear the distance between himself and the rider behind him closing, but he continued to try and urge the horse forward, slapping the reins to the stubborn animal's rump to no avail.

Relentlessly Cal beat the reins against his horse's flank. He was obsessed with catching up with Andy. Not only was his pride bruised but he'd also lost what was as close to a slave that he'd ever know. The boy was there to do his bidding without much choice or rebellion, as far as Cal could see. If Andy's relatives didn't know if he were dead or alive and had given up looking for him, then why shouldn't Andy belong to his finder, Cal grinned to himself. The trapper was positive that he was right and figured that he was the best thing for that boy. He'd take him in hand and teach him to be a good trapper, no matter what.

Cal paid virtually no regard for any fatigue that might be overtaking his horse, having only slowed him to a walk a few times during his ride when he could no longer ignore the lather forming on the animal's neck. He had little more on his mind than recovering the boy and teaching him a lesson that he'd never forget. He hated the fact that if he pushed his horse too hard, he might never catch up with Andy, his other horse, or rifle. Cal had too much to lose but had to concede and allow his mount a breather from time to time, much to his regret.

Once Thomas was done complaining and wrung out some of his wet clothing, the two men rode to the little cabin they'd spotted at the edge of the forest.

Thomas climbed down from his horse and sauntered up to the cabin door and knocked. He didn't get an immediate response and turned to go back to his horse when an Indian boy came around from the back of the cabin.

"Hi," Jess said with a congenial smile. "My name's Jess and this here's Thomas. We're out here lookin' for a missing boy. You wouldn't happen to have seen him, have you?"

Not exactly sure what he should say, the Indian boy decided to lie, he needed to cover for his father, in case he brought Andy back. He knew that Cal didn't want anyone finding Andy. "No. I ain't seen nobody around here. Just me an' m' pa live here. There ain't been nobody around."

"Can we talk to your Pa?" Jess requested.

"He ain't here. He's ah, he's out huntin' right now. Not sure when he'll be back."

"Are there any other homesteads around here, anywhere along the river?" Jess further questioned.

"None that I know about. I was born here an' I ain't seen nobody anywhere around here, 'cept m'ybe a passin' wagon train down in the valley from time to time. M' Pa tries t' sell 'em some hides when they pass through. We're trappers an' we don't see many folks unless we go to town."

"Town?" Jess asked, hoping that he was closer to a town or village than he expected.

"Fort Collins, over yonder," the boy said as he pointed toward the east.

"Okay," Jess said, knowing the distance he was from that town. "So you're sure you ain't seen anybody around here, about your age?"

"Nope," Running Wolf continued his deception. "Look, I got work ta do b'fore m' Pa gits back. He'll tan m' hide if I ain't done with m' chores."

"Okay, thanks for your help," Jess said, while Thomas mounted his horse.

As the two men turned their horses back toward the river, Thomas asked, "Now what are ya gonna do?"

"Ride down river for a ways, I reckon. We can double back to where we crossed later, if we have to, then head north," Jess replied, the disappointment of not getting any leads on Andy's whereabouts weighing heavy on his mind.

At the Sherman Ranch, the tension continued to grow as the two men awaited any news about Jess or Andy. Mort stopped by to see how Slim was doing and asked if there was anything new to report about Andy's disappearance. He'd contacted some of the nearby town sheriffs and marshals, to the south of Laramie, to see if any of them might have seen the gypsy caravan passing through their area, but no one had any information to share with him. It was almost like Jess and Thomas vanished the same way as Andy. Mort regretted that he had nothing new to share with those left at the ranch and was sympathetic with them about not hearing a word from either Jess or Andy.

While Mort visited, Slim expressed his wish to sit on the porch and soak up some of the last sun of the summer. Mort offered to help Jonesy transfer Slim from the couch to the rocking chair on the front porch. Like a mother hen, Jonesy fluttered around, making sure that Slim's leg was properly raised on a chair, and that there was a blanket within easy reach, in case Slim caught a chill.

While Mort sat with Slim talking on the porch, Jonesy checked on the coffee he'd set to brew and brought both men a cup. "You're sure that the Bradley boys will be able to help you get back into the house," Mort worried aloud.

"I'll have them help me after the last stage," Jonesy assured the sheriff, after adjusting the tilt of his derby and taking a lean against the door jam.

"If that's all right with you then," Mort said, as he stood up to take his leave. Holding out his hand to Slim, they shook hands before the lawman made his way to where his horse was tied to the post in front of the house. He looked back to the young rancher who had become a special friend to him over time. If he'd had a son, Mort couldn't have wished for a much better man to call son. In fact, knowing that Jess was out looking for Andy while Slim was laid up, and having his own injury, he found a new admiration for the former gunfighter.

The rider overtook him, as Andy glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Cal, but was surprised by a man, probably about his brother's age, tipping his hat and flashing a broad smile. "Looks like ya have a lazy ole horse there," he said after observing Andy's frantic urging on of his horse, reining in on his bold buckskin to match the other horse's speed.

"Yeah, he's not much for runnin', I reckon," Andy agreed nervously, pulling in on the reins and slowing the horse to a walk. The stranger did the same.

"Where ya headed?" the man asked, once again an easy grin came to his lips and his nut-brown eyes glistened inquisitively.

"Fort, Fort Collins," Andy managed as he looked apprehensively over his shoulder to see if Cal might be overtaking them.

"Do ya mind if I ride along with ya? It gets kind of lonely out here on the trail, sometimes. Besides, it looks like ya could use a friend," he said as he noted Andy's persistent nervousness as he kept looking back over his shoulder.

Unsure of what to say, Andy nodded his confirmation. Maybe it was a good idea to have someone with him right about now, he thought. The tall stranger seemed friendly enough. "I g-guess so," the boy finally stammered. The tenseness in his voice concerned the stranger.

"You're kind of young to be out here all by yourself," the man commented, trying to fish for some information, but not frighten the boy. Once again he flashed his easy smile. Ya keep lookin' over your shoulder like you're running from something. Are you in trouble?" the chestnut red-haired man asked as he, too, looked over his shoulder for any approaching riders.

"I gotta get to Fort Collins an' wire my brother," Andy confessed. "He owns a ranch an' stage stop up near Laramie."

"Laramie? Wyoming territory?"

"Yeah," the boy replied, as he wiped away a tear and presented a very crooked, nervous smile.

"What are ya doing all the way out here and all alone?"

Nearly in tears, after allowing the first one to escape, Andy needed an emotional purge to pour out his story about how he'd been traveling in a wagon, how it slid into the river, and how he'd been rescued by Running Wolf and Cal. He stuck to the fabrication about traveling to Laramie when the wreck happened, but relayed the rest of his stay with Cal to the kind and caring man.

"That's quite an ordeal, Andy. And you think that Cal is looking for you?"

"I don't know. I'm hopin' that he isn't, but real scared that he might be an' I don't know what he might do if he catches up with me."

"Look, I'm goin' to Fort Collins, myself. Don't worry, Andy, if that man comes after you, I'll protect you from him. We'll get you back home, well, I'll get you at least to Fort Collins so you can contact your brother. I know the stage line there goes north. Maybe you'll get a first class ride back home and set down right on your doorstep," the weathered rider said. "By the way, my name is Flint, Flint McCullough. I'm a scout for a wagon train passing south of here. I'm headed for Fort Collins to bring back some new families and their wagons to join the train. I'll be sure to get you there safe and sound," Flint reaffirmed as he handed Andy a neckerchief to wipe his face of the tears that had escaped when he told his story.

 **Chapter 54**

Cal was surprised at how traveled the valley trail was. He thought that only wagons passed through, but it was obvious that horses traveled the area only carrying riders. He recognized which trail belonged to Andy from the tracks left in the still soft earth. He'd been following them long enough that he had the worn horseshoe prints almost memorized.

Not too long ago, another horse had passed this way as well. He wasn't able to tell if the horse passed by before or after Andy. The tracks never imprinted themselves on the other. It almost looked like someone might have been following the other's tracks. Was Andy riding, tracking another rider, or was a rider possibly trailing Andy, Cal wondered. Due to the comeback of the grass, the trapper could tell that the horses hadn't ridden side by side and it sure looked like Andy's horse was a good hour or more ahead of the new tracks he saw that joined the trail from the south.

He'd already found the place where Andy stopped to rest. It cheered him to know that the boy might be a lot closer than he'd hoped. Cal knew how lazy the old gelding was and how much trouble Andy would have in getting the horse to do little more than a steady, slow trot.

The trapper was pleased when he noticed that the other horse never made the side trip to the rocks where Andy had rested. It was a good sign that the stranger was not tracking Andy. Cal had little worry now that Andy's family might be looking for him here or they would have checked the rocky crag. He speculated if the other horse had caught up with his own slow animal. Cal hoped not, it might mean trouble if that blabber-mouthed boy told the rider about wanting to go back to Laramie.

Wanting to be prepared, just in case, Cal decided he'd better invent a good story about his son running away and how good the boy was with tall tales. Heck, that boy's nothin' but a dadgum liar, the trapper thought, smiling to himself. Proud of himself, Cal figured that he was already one step ahead of Andy, even if he had picked up a champion.

Jess and Thomas rode their horses east along the river toward and into the woods that crowded the shore behind the little cabin. Jess stepped down from his horse and walked along the shore, leading Traveler as closely as he could to the river's edge, searching for any sign of Andy amongst the driftwood in case the boy had washed up this far down stream. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was resigned to the fact that they were most likely to not find Andy alive if they found him in the river after this length of time. If he hadn't drowned, he would have died of exposure, yet the dark-haired Texan battled with giving up all hope.

The woods and tangled vines finally became too thick and the pair had to turn back. Without proper clearing equipment, they couldn't continue on, much to Jess' dismay.

Riding back toward the west, the pair came to where they'd crossed the river, but Jess continued to move on a little farther, wanting to be sure he'd covered the area from just above where the wagon had slid into the raging water. He realized it would be impossible for the boy to be upstream of the wreck, but again, he wouldn't give up all hope that some strange turn of events may have deposited Andy in the river before the wagon tumbled in.

"Jess, he ain't here," Thomas said, after the long silence of their ride.

"He couldn't just disappear," Jess replied, anger and frustration ripe in his gravely voice. "I, I can't give up, Thomas," he said, softly the sadness gripped the older man's heart but he felt that he had to bring the younger man back to reality.

"Ya haveta, Jess. You'll be out here fer the resta yer life. He's gone an' there ain't nothin' kin change that," Thomas said regretfully. "It's time ta go home an' tell Slim."

"I don't know if I can do that, Thomas," Jess said, shaking his downcast head.

"Ya owe it ta Slim. Ya knows that. He hasta know."

"I know n' I will. It's gonna be the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Jess said, his soulful eyes meeting the older man's. "I don't know how he's gonna take it," the cowboy said sorrowfully, "n' I don't know how I'm gonna tell him."

"We'll jest tell 'im everythin' that happened. Jess, yer tryin' ta blame yerself fer somethin' that ain't yer fault, an' Slim'll know that."

"But if I'd left sooner…"

"Yer wrong, Jess," Thomas cut him off, his voice strong with authority. "Now listen ta me, boy. I was there an' I know ya wanted ta leave right away, but Jonesy tried ta stop ya. N' the weather woulda killed ya if ya'd a left sooner. Ya left a whole lot sooner than ya shoulda. An' ya didn't take yer medicine with ya, either. Heck, iffin I didn't foller after ya, ya mighta died in that lil' hidey-hole ya found. Ya did a lot more than any man I knows. So stops blamin' yerself, ya hear? I ain't gonna listen ta ya moanin' about it no more. If Slim's half the man I think he is, he's not gonna blame ya fer nothin'. Now think on that. 'Nuff said."

Jess opened his mouth to argue a little more, but the sharp look that he received from the mountain man made him bite back his words. As Thomas' eyes softened and met Jess', they spoke more than words ever could. Jess was aware that the older man felt his pain and that he was right, they had to move on.

They two rode along in silence, side by side. Jess looking toward the river, Thomas riding beside him, gazing at the Texan from time to time, hoping that he had said the right things to get the boy back to thinking straight.

The sun was sinking in the sky when Jess turned his horse around and headed back east, looking for a good place to forge the river. If he didn't find any place that looked crossable, they would then proceed back to where they'd crossed earlier in the day. He knew the bank on the other side would be easy for them to climb out, unlike the steeper bank they encountered on this side of the river.

It was getting close to dusk as Andy and Flint continued on to Fort Collins. "I think we'd better think about camping out for the night. Have something to eat and catch some shut-eye," Flint suggested as he glanced at the slump-shouldered boy.

As if coming out of a stupor, the boy sat up in the saddle, looked over his shoulder into the distance, then sighed, "I reckon. I'm not real hungry, though."

"Oh, you're hungrier than you think," Flint said with a smile. "I don't have anything real fancy for us. It's still light enough, I could go see if I could scare us up a rabbit if you want to set up camp."

Looking nervously back toward the west, Andy replied, "Ah, I don't know. I…"

"I won't be far. Don't worry about Cal. Look over there, looks like a good spot for some rabbits to be holing up. I promise, you'll be fine. Look," Flint said, pointing back over the trail they'd covered. "No one in sight. It's wide open here. There's no way he can sneak up on us here."

"But what about if we sleep?" Andy worried, his anxiety once again all too evident to Flint.

Bending over to look Andy in the eye, Flint said, "I promise, he can't sneak up on us here. I'm used to sleeping out in the open and keeping one eye and one ear open." Even his heartfelt, understanding warm smile didn't seem to deter the boy's distress. "We could take turns keeping watch, if it would make you feel better," Flint suggested, "that is if you think you can keep awake for your watch," the scout said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty tired. I've been in the saddle all day."

Looking down at his boots, Andy finally nodded his head. "I reckon we'll be okay here."

"Now, let me go find us some supper. Rabbit? Pheasant? Duck? Prairie Dog? Do you have a preference?" Flint asked with a grin as he lifted Andy's chin so they were looking eye to eye, again, as he reached and gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Unable to suppress a smile over the menu choices, Andy asked, "Duck or prairie dog?"

"That's better," Flint said as he patted Andy's shoulder. "Now go gather some wood from under that tree for a fire. We'll cook out here and then bunk under the tree. From here we can see for miles and the sound of any horses coming from the west, well, we'll hear them before we can see them. It's a pretty calm night and the breeze is in our favor. Remember, Cal's been in the saddle as long as we have. He's going to have to stop and rest his horse and grab some sleep himself," Flint assured Andy before he walked away to some heavy brush to the south of them hoping to scare up a rabbit, a pheasant or maybe a covey of quail.

Andy didn't have the fire started before he heard gunfire close by and glanced to where Flint had gone to see the man bending over to pick up his quarry. Holding up a fat rabbit, Flint smiled as he moseyed back to where Andy was stooping over the wood he'd gathered and piling it into a proper cook fire.

"I told you that it looked like a good place for rabbits to hide. There were so many that when they all scattered in every direction all I had to do was close my eyes and fire my gun. I couldn't miss," Flint said with a twinkle in his eye and an amiable smile materializing on his lips. He laid the rabbit down in the grass and picked up some of the straighter branches to fashion a spit to roast the rabbit.

Andy looked at the suntanned man beside him, so glad that he'd conceded in allowing Flint to ride along with him. He liked and admired the scout, feeling secure that Flint would keep him safe from Cal.

While Andy continued to nurse the wood into a fire, Flint quickly dressed the rabbit and threaded it onto the makeshift spit. With a rock, the red-haired man pounded the y-shaped stakes into the ground to balance the spit and hold the rabbit suspended over the fire to roast slowly and not burn.

Waiting for their dinner to cook, Andy told Flint about his life at the ranch and how anxious he was to get home. Again, he tried to keep up the premise that he was traveling with his brother's knowledge and that he was returning home from visiting family and that Slim would probably be worried by now that he hadn't returned to Laramie yet.

The story seemed feasible enough to Flint that he didn't question any of it, but he did ask enough questions that he was sure that Andy was from Laramie and not really a runaway and inventing a fabulous story.

Cal was perturbed that darkness was overtaking him and making it difficult to follow Andy's trail. Even through his anger, Cal's instinct told him that he'd better quit for the night. If Andy made any side trips, he'd miss any turn offs and then he'd be ahead of the boy. He couldn't risk losing the pesky boy at this point-he'd gone too far. Besides, he speculated that if he didn't rest his horse, he'd soon be on foot.

Earlier he'd heard a shot fired in the distance. Remembering that he was unarmed and that Andy had his rifle, the trapper was also concerned that the boy might fire on him if he tried to creep up on him in the dark. There was also the chance that the boy had found himself a traveling companion. The tracks looked very much like two horses were traveling side by side now. Who knows what Andy may have told his escort or if his new friend might be heavily armed. Nope, it was best to wait until he could see what he might be riding into, though he surely didn't like to have to wait.

Looking off into the darkness to the east, he hoped to spot a campfire, but was furiously disappointed. Had he'd seen a fire, Cal might have tried to sneak up to see if it was Andy or not. He would have risked it, his eagerness to catch the boy enveloping him and deferring any caution.

Having not brought any food with him, Cal realized how famished he was. His anger and tenacity had suppressed his hunger, but now that he was no longer driven. Hunger pangs reminded him how long it had been since he'd gobbled down his breakfast. The angry man resolved hat he'd be facing a night of listening to his stomach growling in protest with little choice in the matter. At least his horse could be fortified by grazing through the night. Luckily he'd paid mind to remember to bring a canteen of water with him, but even that was almost drained. "Wish I'd brought some whiskey with me," he mumbled to himself as he licked his lips, imagining the taste the bitter rotgut.

With no appetite, Jess was annoyed by Thomas' whining about his growling belly as they'd ridden along the water and doubled back several times to cover the same area. Now, unable to see well enough to travel on, Jess and Thomas stopped to make camp near where the wagon had slid into the river. There was nothing but hardtack and jerky left in the supply sack as Thomas fished through it hoping to find something more substantial.

Jess drifted away from the camp and stood, leaning against a tree, staring into the dark water. His thoughts were in turmoil as he pondered the cruelty of life. He reflected on his friendship with Slim, more like a brother than a friend. He pondered if Jonesy had told Slim about Andy yet and how Slim might take it. Knowing Slim, Jess was sure that he'd want to be out looking for his brother, as well, but the Texan had confidence that Jonesy would take control and put some sense into the tall rancher's head that he had to stay home and take care of his leg. And Jonesy, Jess sighed, he figured that Jonesy would be sorry that he'd entrusted the fate of Andy's search to such a weakling. The pain in his heart left no room for the pain of his injury or the aches in his body from the continuous hours in the saddle.

Heavy in his thoughts, Jess didn't hear Thomas as he approached from behind him. Rather than startle the younger man, knowing the consequences it brought from past experiences, Thomas softly and compassionately asked, "Are ya all right, Jess?"

It took a moment for Jess to respond, but he turned to the older man, shaking his head, "I don't think I'll ever be all right again. This is the kinda thing that seems to follow me around. I know, Thomas, n' I know what ya said. I just don't know how I'm gonna tell Slim n' Jonesy that I failed."

"Slim loves ya like a brother. He'll understand."

Almost in a hoarse whisper, Jess said, "Yeah, but after this? Blood is thicker than water."

"Ya did all that ya could," Thomas replied, putting his hand on Jess' forearm. Wanting to change the subject and not allow Jess to wallow any longer, the bearded man said, "Now come eat somethin' an' let's git us some shuteye. With luck we'll be back ta the ranch in a day er two. You'll see, I'm right about Slim."

Side-by-side, going back to the campfire that Thomas built, the older man handed Jess a cup of freshly brewed coffee, "Enjoy it, that's the last we got," Thomas informed the cowhand. "We're outta everythin'. If we scare up some game, we'd better take it."

Jess nodded in agreement as he sipped his coffee and partook of some of the small rations that Thomas had handed him. Thomas studied the sullen cowboy in the shadows and flickering light created by the campfire, as the younger man was once again lost in his own mind's corner of hell. The mountain man was at a loss for words to comfort the tormented man before him and he was sure that there were none that would end Jess' suffering. Thomas could feel the younger man's pain, but all he could do was empathize with him.

Once they'd eaten and finished their coffee, both men prepared their bedrolls. As Jess bedded down, Thomas brought the can of salve to him, "We're almost outta this, too," he sighed. "Ya wanna put it on t'night, er wait till mornin'?"

"It can wait," Jess said as he settled in against his saddle and pulled the blanket up under his chin.

Shaking his head, Thomas went to his own bedroll and felt around on the ground beneath the tarp to make sure he wouldn't wake up with a stone digging into his hide again. Once under his blanket, it wasn't long before the mountain man was snoring like a bear in hibernation.

Sleep wouldn't let Jess rest as nightmares woke him often throughout the night. Would the ghosts ever allow him a restful sleep again? Blaming the bad dreams on his fever returning, Jess reached for the bottle of elixir, hoping that the concoction might bring him at least a dreamless sleep. He was bone-tired. Like everything else, the potion was almost gone as he re-corked the bottle.

 **Chapter 55**

Flint was up with the sun. Right off he was poking at the remaining embers in the dying fire trying to get it blazing again so he and Andy could have some warm breakfast. Flint observed that Andy was still dead to the world, probably hadn't stirred all night, once he'd drifted off. He was glad that Andy had gotten some restful sleep. It was easy to tell how exhausted Andy was since he was barely able to keep his eyes open while they feasted on the rabbit they'd had for supper.

Walking lightly, Flint gathered more wood from under the nearby tree, stoked the fire to blazing, and put some dried fish to heating on a rock before he woke Andy. The boy was still soundly sleeping when Flint lightly shook him. Andy stirred, rolled over from his side to his back and stretched his arms above his head as he opened his eyes. He'd been dreaming of home and was shocked to find himself not in his bunk but on the hard ground. Knuckling his eyes, he sat up and looked around the campsite as everything that had transpired over the past few days came surging back into his memory.

"Morning," Flint said with a broad smile as he stood up over the boy.

"Mornin'," Andy responded, once again rubbing his eyes. "I was dreamin' I was back home."

"I hope we can get you back there in the next few days," Flint said as he strolled back to the fire to turn the fish over on their heated rock. "After you roll up your bed, come get something to eat."

Andy did as he was told and joined Flint to enjoy the warmed, dried fish. It was salty, too much so for Andy's taste, but he wasn't about to complain. He was grateful to have something to keep his stomach from rebelling like it had been doing the day before. 'Funny how you can be so hungry one minute, and later you forget all about it.' he thought as he remembered the day before. Reaching for the canteen, which was resting against the stump he was leaning against, the adolescent took a sip of water to wash down a mouthful of fish.

"Take it easy on the water. It has to last us until we get to Fort Collins," Flint cautioned him. "I know the fish is salty, but it's all we have left for this morning. If we come across any small game along the way, we'll make sure we have plenty to eat between here and town."

"You mean, like prairie dog?" Andy asked with an impish grin.

"You like that idea?" Flint countered with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling, glad to see that Andy was loosening up some. "I haven't been desperate enough to partake of that meat yet, but you never know when you're really hungry. Well, you clean up here, toss some dirt on the fire, and stir it around some. I'll get the horses ready," the scout said as he stood up.

Before he went to fetch the horses, Flint looked to the west, scouring the horizon for any riders, but there was none in sight. He was hoping that they wouldn't encounter Cal, but he wanted to be prepared should they chance to meet.

Bringing the horses back to where Andy was completing his chores, Flint ruffled the boy's hair, bringing a smile to Andy's face. "Looks good. Come on, saddle up. We should be in Fort Collins well before nightfall," Flint said, as he searched the sky for any signs of inclement weather. The sky was blue from horizon to horizon, with only a small scattering of white puffy clouds in the distance to their east. There was no danger of rain. The ride should be clear and easy.

Cal woke with the dawn. Standing up and scratching his chest, he examined the landscape around him. Nearby, where he spotted his horse, was a small clump of trees and as luck would have it, they were apple trees. Smiling to himself as he wandered to them, he found the ground covered with half eaten apples that the wildlife in the area, along with his horse, had been feasting on. Reaching up amongst the branches of the tree, Cal was able to pluck three apples that hadn't fallen to the ground yet. Immediately he took a bite into the sweet fruit. It was past the season and the fruit was a little drier than he would have preferred, but it was still palatable and his stomach welcomed the intrusion of the sustenance.

He hoped that the horse hadn't eaten too much of the fruit. It didn't look like the animal found the tree, himself, until early morning since most of the grass around where Cal had hobbled him was mowed nearly to the ground.

After he finished his apples, Cal reached up to grab two more and put them in his shirt pockets. He then swung up onto his horse to continue the hunt for Andy. Immediately he set his horse into a steady gallop. He didn't want to waste any more time and allow the boy to get any closer to Fort Collins. Andy had already had too much of a headstart.

Jess woke, surprised that he'd actually slept without the haunting nightmares shaking him to wakefulness. Even the rising sun hadn't aroused him. Instead it was the sound of mourning doves in trees along the river that stirred him. Thomas was still snoring, a large lump under a blanket near the now dead campfire. It would be useless to try and revive the fire, Jess realized, since there was nothing left in their supply sack. "I'm hungry enough to eat a coyote tail first," he mumbled to himself as he heard the grizzly bear in his stomach growl almost as loud as Thomas' snoring.

Looking around him for anything that could be considered breakfast, some berries, or fruit would have been welcome, but there wasn't anything within his sight. They were still near the river, so Jess figured he could try his luck at fishing again.

Wanting to be alone with his thoughts, Jess decided to let the old mountaineer sleep. He quietly looked in his saddlebags and pulled out the line and hook he'd previously used and sneaked off to the river without disturbing Thomas.

The horses were grazing happily nearby, and the day was looking like it was going to be warm and dry. A gentle breeze, strangely from the south, promised a good day for the ride. To the east were the only clouds that the Texan could see. The rest of the sky was clear and blue. Even the eastern clouds looked light and fluffy, nothing to slow their return to the ranch.

Turning over some rocks along the shore, Jess found a handful of worms. He was now prepared to catch them some breakfast. This morning he felt much more hungry than he had the night before. Some fresh fish would be just what he needed, and fishing always seemed to lift his spirits and his spirits needed a lot of lifting.

Tossing in his line, Jess settled back against an oak tree that was perched close to the water's edge. Fishing was good. The fish were hungry. He already had two small, edible sized trout snagged shortly after sitting down. A few more and they could have some with them for a noon meal, he hoped. One couldn't always count on finding a meal along the way, he recognized from years in the saddle, but if they did find some game, it would only enhance the meal, he reflected with a smile.

"Jess," Thomas said gently from behind the Texan, not wanting to startle him and be looking down the barrel of his hog leg again.

"Just catchin' us some breakfast," Jess said without turning around, holding up the two trout he'd caught. "Wish we had some eggs to go along with 'em, but they'll do."

"Me, too," Thomas agreed as he slid his back down the tree as he sat down next to Jess and held up the fish to scrutinize their size. "A bit small, ain't they?" he finally commented.

Picking them up and swinging them toward the river, Jess said, "Want me to throw 'em back?" a twinkle in his eye gave away that he was only teasing, but Thomas bit as he quickly reached for the fish.

"NO!" the mountain man shouted, rising to his knees as he reached for the fish. "Give 'em here, I'll go git 'em ready an' git the fire goin'. I kin make us some Injun tea, if ya like. See that o'er there, it makes a real fine tea," Thomas declared as he pointed at a leafy plant growing in a clump nearby.

"As long as it's hot, I reckon it'll do," Jess agreed, not recognizing the plant, but willing to try anything at this point, hoping that it resembled coffee in some small way, other than just being hot.

"I'll come back fer the fish when I finish gittin' the tea leaves. Meybe you'll catch sumthin' worth cookin' by then," Thomas teased as he got up from where he'd been kneeling.

The mountain man strolled to where the plant he'd pointed out was growing. He was glad to see that Jess was now hungry and that his mood seemed to have lightened since the day before. Maybe the boy was coming to his senses, Thomas hoped, though he knew that there was still a hard row to hoe ahead for the young man. He sure didn't envy Jess' appointed burden. Thomas recognized that it was far from over and that it was still tearing the guts out of the Texan. It would take a long time for Jess to overcome what had unfolded over the past few days, if he ever did.

Sorting through the small bush, Thomas chose the most desirable leaves. Gathering them in his neckerchief, he started back to where Jess was seated to show him the leaves he'd picked and educate him in how to pick the most choice if he might need the knowledge later on the trail. As the grizzled older man made his way back to the oak, he stumbled over a clump of what he thought was grass. Suddenly the air was full of buzzing, stinging hornets chasing after him. He didn't notice their pursuit until he was almost to the oak tree where Jess was sitting and the first of the swarm stung him in the neck, then one on his arm. Quickly he was almost covered with the hoard, as was Jess. Both men dove immediately into the river to shed themselves of the stinging beasts.

"Why'd ya go n' do somethin' like that for?" Jess hollered when he came up from the water, pulling Thomas' head up by the hair.

"I didn't do nothin'," the older man protested, coughing and sputtering. "I don't knows where they come from," he exclaimed. Once again the two men had to duck under the water to avoid the regrouping storm of hornets.

Swimming under water, Jess came up for air several feet down river. Searching for Thomas to surface, Jess began to worry when there was no sign of him. Down stream, Jess finally heard the unmistakable sound of the mountain man coming to the surface and gasping for a breath. Apparently, they were now far enough away that they were no longer pursued by the angry insects. They could see the swarm up stream, looking like a dark cloud suspended above the water, waiting for their intruders to once again appear so they could wreck their wrath on the trespassers for disturbing their buried nest.

Swimming to shore and grasping some exposed roots, Jess wiped the water from his face and smoothed back his thick, wavy, wet hair and said, "You stirred 'em up, you can go n' get the fish."

"I ain't goin' back fer them measly little fish. Iffin ya wants 'em, ya kin go git 'em yerself," Thomas argued as he tried to pull himself up on the shore, but losing his hold, he fell back into the water. Jess couldn't contain his laughter at the situation they'd found themselves. Grasping hold of a sturdy root, Jess pulled himself to shore and rolled on his back to further slow his breathing.

Thomas, now trying to pull himself out from the water again, was alerted when Jess, now sitting up and watching him, gasped. His blue eyes were fixed and blankly staring straight ahead, his skin color changing from ashen to flushed as he felt a twinge and suddenly leaned back clutching his right hand over his chest. "What is it, Jess? Are you all right?" Thomas asked as concern took over his need to pull himself from the river. He'd heard of people dying from bee and hornet stings and was worried that Jess might be having a reaction to the venom injected by the raging swarm.

Jess exhaled slowly and at the same time looked down to his left jacket pocket. It was a pocket-showdown. Jess was being stared-down and taken on by….a frog. Reaching for the slippery critter, it slid through his fingers, escaping rapidly and diving back into the river. "Dadgummit, there goes my breakfast," Jess yelled as he reached just a little too late to recapture the slick little creature.

Thomas pulled himself from the river, unable to contain his uproar, but it was soon halted when he lurched forward with an "ouch" and reached to his hindquarters. It was now Jess' turn to laugh as he aided the crawfishes release from Thomas' posterior and gently flipped them back into the water. "Jess! Breakfast!" Thomas hollered.

"Nope, they're too little," Jess said, sitting back down in the grass, where he couldn't contain the chuckle as he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "Thanks, Thomas."

"Huh?" Thomas asked, as he continued to examine his clothing for any other little river critters that may have taken refuge.

"I don't know, Thomas," Jess replied. He'd felt the tension that had been building up over the past few days had just had a chance to drain from him, at least a little. "I don't know, but whatever it was, it helped. I reckon we don't have fish for breakfast, after all. And, I lost the line when we jumped into the river. Unless ya wanna go fetch those trout?"

Looking at the growing cloud of hornets, Thomas said, "Nope. I reckon some raccoon's gonna be real grateful fer his find t'night. What is it with ya, Jess? This is the second time ya gots me ta takes a bath, m' ears an' all, an' it ain't even Saturday."

"Are ya sure of that?" Jess teased. "I don't remember what day it is anymore."

"Yeah, yer prob'ly right. It could be Saturday," Thomas mumbled as he reached out a hand to help Jess to his feet. "Lost m' tea leaves, too. But I'll go git us more iffin ya wanna go git the fire goin' ag'in."

"Maybe by the time we get the fire goin', them angry hornets will go back to their nest n' we can get those fish," Jess said, not wanting to give up on them that easily.

"Could be," Thomas mumbled as he traipsed off toward the bush he'd previously visited.

 **Chapter 56**

Slim sat rocking on the porch, wishing that he could be working or pacing, anything but reclining or sitting with his foot up and unable to keep his anguished thoughts from his brother and best friend's fates. He had faith in his friend that he was doing everything in his power to find Andy, but it tortured him to be so helpless. Even soaping some harnesses couldn't keep his mind off what might be going on miles from Laramie. Even if he could go out looking for Jess and Andy, he realized that both could be in any direction. Which way would he head out, the injured rancher pondered? Putting the harness down in his lap, Slim looked to the sky. He was thankful that there was no cloud cover. The day would be warm and the clouds to the east indicated no threat of rain.

If only Jess could get some word to him, Slim thought as he gazed to the south, sure that both Andy and Jess were to the south of him, but that was a very big direction, running east and west as well as much deeper south. Picking up the harness, he started staunchly rubbing away at the leather once again, his brow deeply furrowed.

Jonesy peeked out from the ranch house door, "Don't you think you should come in and rest, Slim," the older gentleman asked.

"Jonesy, I haven't been doing anything but resting since I broke my leg. Do you see me out here dancing or something?" the perturbed rancher asked sarcastically as he shifted some in his seat. Upon seeing the hurt feeling on the older man's face, Slim amended his comment, "I'm sorry, Jonesy. I guess I'm just worried. It's been so long since Jess left and we haven't heard a word. I'm really worried about them both. I'm sorry if I'm taking it out on you."

"I know, Slim," Jonesy replied, sympathetically. "I wish we'd hear something, too, but you know those gypsies are probably keeping away from towns whenever they can. If Jess is following them, then he's probably not anywhere near a telegraph. I'm sure, if he can, he'll send us word. I baked some pies and they're almost cooled. I know I could use a slice to hold me till supper."

Slim slightly perked up at the mention of pie, "The stage will be here shortly. If there's any passengers, you can offer them some pie and coffee, too. I think we should wait," the tall man answered, as always thinking first of others.

"Okay, Slim," Jonesy conceded and went back into the house, still worried about the big man seated for the last few hours on the porch, wearing the leather on the harness thin with his constant polishing.

Behind them, Andy and Flint heard a horse gaining on them at a steady gait. Straining to look over his shoulder, Andy couldn't get a good look at the distant rider, so he stopped and turned his horse's head to the west. Flint did the same.

"Does it look like Cal?" Flint questioned.

"Not sure, he's too far away yet."

Reaching into his saddlebag, Flint pulled out a pair of field glasses. "Here, try these," he said as he handed Andy the glasses.

Holding the instrument to his eyes, Andy confirmed his greatest fear. Lowering the glasses quickly, the boy turned to look at Flint. The terror in the boy's eyes was enough of an answer for Flint, "It's Cal, isn't it?"

Andy nodded his head in affirmation as he handed Flint the glasses back. Putting the binoculars back into his saddlebag, Flint said, "Don't worry, Andy. I told you, you're safe with me. Just let me take care of this. Do what I tell you and only answer if I ask you a question. Stay calm. I'm going to get you to Fort Collins and Cal isn't going to stop me, okay?"

Andy again nodded, though the fright was still showing in his eyes. "Ain't we gonna run?" he asked.

"Nope, we're going to wait right here," Flint replied in a strong, matter-of -fact voice. "Just stay behind me and don't let Cal anywhere near you." The scout sat relaxed in his saddle, his arm leaning on the saddle horn, waiting for the trapper to catch up with them.

Cal's eyes brightened when he saw the two riders ahead of him. He was sure he recognized his horse. The boy was his, he gloated while spurring his horse to pick up the pace.

Flint sat astride his stout buckskin horse, leisurely waiting for the carrot-top red-haired man to catch up with them. "Howdy," Flint called out, with his most charming smile.

Slowing his horse to a walk and approaching the pair, Cal said excitedly, "I see ya caught m' boy!"

"I ain't your boy," Andy retorted.

"My name's McCullough, Flint McCullough," Flint introduced himself, turning his horse to keep between Cal's attempt to get to the boy. "Is there something I can help you with?" Flint sat taller in the saddle, and as he turned his horse he nonchalantly lifted the keeper off his iron; though the trapper appeared to be unarmed.

"M' boy. I jest wanna take 'im back home with me."

"He says he isn't your boy," Flint replied, still smiling at the cantankerous trapper.

"He's a liar," Cal snarled, his pale gray eyes almost ghostly. "I'm his pa an' he's comin' home with me."

"Funny, he sure doesn't look much like you, Cal."

"He favors his mother," Cal said, unable to hide his anger at the stranger asking so many questions. "He's m' boy an' I'm takin' him home with me." Cal repeated and once again tried to go around the buckskin horse, but was again blocked from coming in contact with Andy.

"Not the way I see it, Cal," the smile was now gone from Flint's face. "Andy's told me about what happened and how you've been treating him back at your cabin."

Squinting at the scout, Cal was ready to spit nails. A humorless grin spread across his narrow lips, exposing his yellowed, crooked teeth, "I tole ya, he's nothin' but a liar. He's tried ta run off a'fore."

"Well, he sure tells a pretty good story, Mister. Ah, I don't think I caught your last name," the nut-colored eyes of the scout twinkled as he once again broke out into a broad grin, but there was no humor in his smile.

"Cal. Jest Cal. Don't use no last name no more. An' who do ya think ya be t' be innerferrin' with m' fam'ly?"

"Well, Just Cal," Flint said socialably, stretching out the man's name as he threw a wink at Andy while still riding herd on keeping Cal from getting anywhere near the boy. He'd already sized the man up and was sure that Cal had no weapons with him, just as Andy had reported. Cal was no threat to them at all. "I'm taking Andy to Fort Collins to wire his brother. Now, if he doesn't have a brother to wire, I'm going to find that out then. If he's really a liar. Now, I suggest that you come along with us. If he's been lying to me, then you can take him back home with you. But," Flint emphasized the word, "if he's telling the truth, I think the marshal in Fort Collins might be real interested to hear about what's been going on out at your cabin. I think they call it unlawful imprisonment, Cal. You could go to jail for a long time for such a crime."

A hint of distress crossed Cal's face, but he quickly checked it, putting on his best poker face as he caught a glimpse of Flint's knife. Flint quickly caught the direction of the trapper's eyes and continued to make sure that Cal wouldn't have a chance to get either the knife or Andy, keeping both well away from the angry man.

"Well, I ain't got the time t' go t' Fort Collins," Cal said. "I gotta git back ta m' traps an' m' boy," he then quickly added, "m' other boy."

"I see," Flint lowered his eyes, pretending to feel some sympathy for the trapper and his predicament while also hiding his amusement of the man's discomfort with the situation. "I'll tell you what, Cal," Flint said, drawing out the trappers name, as he lifted his head and looked Cal straight in the eyes, his smile gone, "I'm going to take Andy to Fort Collins and give him a chance to contact his brother. If he's lying, and there is no brother in Laramie, I'll be coming back this way with some wagons to join the wagon train. You see I'm a scout for the train traveling just south of here. I'm going to Fort Collins to pick up some new families going west. I'll bring Andy back with us and deliver him, personally, to your front door, if he really is the liar you say he is.

Unable to look Flint in the eye, Cal's eyes wandered, looking ahead toward Fort Collins, still several miles away. "How do I know you'll do that?" he finally asked.

"I'm a man of my word," Flint responded glibly.

Fidgeting, Cal looked back to the west before responding, "What about m' horse an' rifle. M' boy an' me," again he caught his mistake, "m' other boy an me are without any protection. Andy's got our only weapon."

"I need the horse to get Andy to Fort Collins. My horse is too weary to take us there double. I'll bring your horse back to you, with or without Andy. I promise, I'll deliver one or both to your cabin."

Flustered, Cal felt that he was losing ground rapidly with this fast talking scout. "How do ya know where I live?" he questioned, suspiciously.

"Andy told me. I recognized where he told me. I rode along the river when I was looking for a different way to bring some wagons down from Laramie a while back. I saw your cabin. I know right where it is, up on that bluff above the wagon trail. It's right there on the edge of the river, backed on the east side by the forest, right?"

Obvious to the trapper as he fidgeted on the high-whithered horse, the scout knew exactly where he lived. He squinted as he addressed Flint again, "What about m'' rifle. I need m' rifle," he insisted.

Without turning, Flint maintained eye contact with Cal while he reached out his hand toward Andy. The boy realized that he had to give up the rifle at Flint's request. Taking the weapon from its scabbard, Andy placed it in the scout's outstretched hand. Without taking his eyes off Cal's eyes, the scout emptied the long gun. "I'll keep these," he said dropping the rounds in his breast pocket as he handed Cal the empty rifle.

"But I might need 'em on the way back home," Cal pleaded, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to get Andy back when the scout turned his back to him. "Thar's bears out here, ya know," he growled, almost sounding like a grizzly himself.

"You came this far without a weapon, I think you'll make it back to your cabin just fine," Flint's stare was almost enough to melt the trapper.

Turning his horse away, Cal wanted to have the last word, "Yer gonna be sorry fer this, mister," he shouted over his shoulder as he kicked his animal and started heading west.

Flint removed his hat, slapped it across his thigh a few times, and then replaced it on his head, tipping it back. Loud enough to still be heard by Cal as he rode off, Flint retorted, "I don't think so." He was happy with the results of the confrontation and that it wasn't really very confrontational. He felt that he had complete control over the whole ordeal. Turning his horse toward Andy he said, "Come on. We have some riding to do. I don't think we have to worry about Cal anymore."

Watching Cal's form getting smaller as he headed west, Andy asked, "Do you really think so?"

"I've met his kind before. He's just a lot of noise, especially when he doesn't have anything, like a gun, to back him up. He's as tired as we are, and probably more hungry. Without any bullets he can't do any hunting. If he wants to eat, he has to go home. He knows that I know he was lying and he's worried that I'll have him arrested if he shows his face in Fort Collins. I have no doubt about it, he's going home."

"Are ya gonna take this horse back to him? Aren't ya worried that he might," Andy paused, "hurt you if you go to his cabin?"

"I won't be going alone, so don't worry, Andy. I'm meeting two friends in Fort Collins. I'll take them with me. Everything will be fine. Come on, we still have a lot of ground to cover. With luck we might get to town in time to get that message off to your brother." Flint said as he urged his horse into an easy lope, followed closely by Andy's horse, who was now more eager to lope in the company of another horse.

Andy threw a few glances back over his shoulder as they traveled along. It looked like Flint was right. It appeared that they were no longer being followed. There wasn't a sign of anyone in the distance.

Looking for familiar landmarks, Jess finally declared that he thought that they were at least a day and a half away from the ranch. His sullen mood had returned and Thomas' chatter didn't seem to move the cowhand into any conversation. All the older man received was a grunt from time to time, thus he figured the young cowboy was still paying some attention, or at least pretending to.

"Ya know," Jess finally spoke up, "maybe I might just wanna go prospectin' with ya, if ya don't mind the company. I don't think Slim is gonna want me around after all this. I'll only remind him of how I messed up lookin' for Andy."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind the company," Thomas replied, glad to finally have Jess back to talking, but he sure didn't like the direction the talk was going, "but I think ya oughta think real hard on it."

"I have, Thomas. I been doin' nothin' but thinkin' hard on it. It's not just Slim. I don't know if I can look at Slim without thinkin' of Andy. Slim might be able to forgive me, but I don't think I can forgive myself.

"Now, Jess," the older man said, unable to hide the pity that he felt for the Texan, "don't go talkin' like that. I kin see it. Slim loves ya like a brother. He'll need ya more now than ever. An' there's nothin' ta fergive! Ya didn't cause any of this. Even if ya coulda left as soon as ya found out Andy was missin' ya mighta been too late. Ya didn't have anythin' ta do with Andy runnin' off now, did ya?" Jess shook his head no and started to respond, but Thomas cut him off, "I was thar. I know what happened. We bin through this b'fore. Ya gotta stop blamin' yerself. Nobody's gonna blame ya, an' ya gotta stop this, it's gonna destroy ya. I blamed m'self fer goin' ta town when Injuns come an' kilt m' wife, an' look what happened ta me. I ain't worth spit now. I know what I did an' it had nothin' ta do with her dyin', at least, I know it now. I didn't back then. If I'd bin home, I woulda prob'ly bin kilt, too. Ya might not see it now, but someday ya will. Trust me, I know what I'm sayin'. Someday it'll all be as clear ta ya as it is ta me."

Jess grabbed a quick glance at the old-timer riding beside him but didn't respond. At least Thomas was sure that the boy had been listening to him this time.

"Why don'tcha leave it up ta Slim? I know I'm right. I think ya both need each other more right now than ya'll ever know."

Needing to think a little more, the Texan spurred his horse on ahead of Thomas. In his wisdom, Thomas let Jess ride on ahead of him by several feet, following behind him silently. Thomas was aware that he'd said it all before, and if he had to say it all again to reach the younger man's senses, he was more than willing. He didn't want to see the young cowboy that he'd learned to admire so much tear himself apart over this tragedy, especially when it was something so far out of his control. If it would have done any good, Thomas would have liked to take Jess by the shoulders and shake him. He recognized that this was all something that Jess had to work out for himself. He only hoped that some of his advice might sink in and help Jess sort things out.

 **Chapter 57**

Flint and Andy rode side by side into Fort Collins. As Flint had predicted, they arrived in plenty of time for Andy to go send a telegram off to Slim. Flint was happy to pay for the message, not expecting repayment. The joy on Andy's face once the wire was humming its way to Laramie was enough payment for the handsome scout.

"I'm getting us a room for tonight. Come with me. You can freshen up while I tend to my last minute business. I have to meet with the families joining the train. There was supposed to be three wagons but I only see two. I have to find out what's going on," Flint explained as he led the boy toward the boarding house. "I won't be long. I'll come and get you when I'm finished and we'll go get a bite to eat."

The thought of a good square meal brightened Andy's mood and his eyes had finally given up their lost, sorrowful appearance. "I bet they don't serve prairie dog here," Andy joked as he looked admiringly at the older man.

"You're probably right," Flint agreed with a chuckle. "I reckon you'll have to wait a little longer to sample that dish. I'm thinking a nice steak sounds like about what we need. I hear they serve some of the best beef steak right over there at that restaurant," Flint continued, as he pointed out an ornate, gingerbread styled establishment, boasting a sign that read "The Silver Dollar Restaurant".

Entering the boarding house, the wagon train scout ordered a room with two beds and escorted Andy to their night shelter. He then took the key and instructed Andy to turn the lock on the door and not let anyone in. "I have the key. I'll let myself in. Don't open the door for anyone, okay?" Andy agreed, as he slumped down wearily in an overstuffed chair near the window.

After Flint left, Andy explored the room and found water in some pitchers next to a washbasin. He took advantage of it and gave himself a good sponging off. It felt good to remove the film of road dust that covered his unclothed body parts. Feeling much better after washing he went to the window to look out, hoping to see Flint returning. He was famished and couldn't wait to sit down to the steak dinner that Flint had promised. Not seeing the scout from the window, he turned and looked at the beds. They looked so inviting to the youngster that he couldn't resist plopping down, bouncing several times then giving one of the pillows a smack and a fluff, luxuriating in the softness and springiness. Lying back, an indulgent smile spread across his face. It seemed like an eternity since he'd been on anything this soft. In fact, it was softer than his bunk back at the ranch. Much softer, he smiled at the thought.

With nothing better to do and his fatigue catching hold of him once again, Andy soon felt secure enough to fall fast asleep. He'd lost too much sleep over the past few days and it finally engulfed him into a sound, dreamless sleep.

Jonesy was putting supper on the table while Slim was in the bedroom washing up and shaving when they heard a horse galloping into the yard. "Jonsey," Slim called out, unable to leave the bedroom on his own and grumbling inaudibly to himself over his inability to get around as he chose.

"I heard it," Jonesy yelled back, "I'm on my way out to see who it is. Dern fool riding in like a maniac," he mumbled to himself as he opened the door to find Mort standing at the door about to knock. Having looked away as a horse squealing in the corral drew his attention, Mort reached forward to knock at the door and instead connected his fist with Jonesy's derby, knocking it askew and into a not too sophisticated tilt. Reaching to straighten his hat, Jonesy queried, "Mort?"

"Oh, sorry, Jonesy," the sheriff said, then excitedly added, "Where's Slim?"

"What's wrong?" Jonesy asked, apprehension gripping the man's body as he expected to hear the worst after observing Mort's uncharacteristic fidgeting, "Have you heard from Jess?"

"No. No, it's Andy," Mort replied impatiently. "Where's Slim?"

"Andy? " Jonesy asked, his face going pale. "What is it, Mort?"

"We know where Andy is. Where's Slim. I have to tell him."

"I hear you, Mort. I'm in here," Slim shouted from his bedroom.

Mort went to where he'd heard Slim's voice, followed closely on his heels by Jonesy. As the sheriff faced Slim, he beamed with the news. "Hank from the telegraph office ran this over to me. He thought you'd want to see this right away. I told him I'd bring it right out here to you. Umm, Slim, I hope you don't mind, I wired some money to Andy. I figured you'd want to get him home real soon."

"Telegram? Wired Andy money?" Slim sounded slightly confused as he eased himself back down onto his cot.

"I don't have any details. Here," Mort handed Slim a folded piece of paper. "This is all I know."

Unfolding the telegram with trepidation, Slim read it aloud, "In Fort Collins-stop-I need money for stage to come home-stop. Andy. Fort Collins? What on earth is he doing in Fort Collins? If he was with the gypsies, that's far away from where they were headed."

"I don't know," Mort replied, "just bringing you what I got. I ran over to the stage office to find out how much the fare would be and I wired it right away. I know you're good for it, Slim," Mort said sheepishly.

"Thanks, Mort. You know I am and thanks for doing that. Maybe he'll be home on the stage in a day or two," Slim said, his pleasure showing through his beaming smile. "I wonder if Jess is with him," the tall man's smile disappeared at the thought of no mention of his friend. "I guess it wouldn't be like Jess to come back on the stage, unless something happened to Traveler."

"He could come back on the stage. They've led horses behind the coach before," Jonesy reminded him.

"Short distances. That's a long way with a lot of stops. I don't think Jess would do that," Slim said thoughtfully.

"Okay, then maybe he's sending Andy back alone and he's riding along with the coach. He probably thinks it's too far for Andy to have to ride with him," Jonesy suggested, trying to alleviate some of Slim's worry.

"I'm needin' to get back to town," Mort said, shaking Slim's hand as Slim profusely thanked him for the news and sending Andy his fare. The sheriff turned to leave and Jonesy followed after him to show him the door.

"Thanks, Mort. You really made Slim's day with that news. Mine, too. What do you think about Jess? I didn't want Slim worrying about him, but, I reckon that I'm worried about Jess, too. He wasn't in the best of health when he left here. I sent Thomas after him, and I'm guessing that the old-timer found him or he would have come back to tell us."

"I don't know what to think about Jess. You two know him far better than I do," Mort said, "but from what I do know about him, I'm sure he can pretty much take care of himself, I suspect.

Most of the ride back toward Laramie was long and arduous for Thomas since Jess wasn't interested in much conversation. He was tired of Thomas' lectures, but they did give Jess pause to reflect. Regardless of what the older man said, Jess didn't think he could bear to stay at the ranch after he gave Slim the news about not finding Andy and his suspicions of the boy drowning in the river and not being able to recover his body. The hardest part was, not knowing for sure what had happened to Slim's little brother, only that he was gone.

Traveling along a hedgerow, they flushed up six or seven pheasants. Quick on the draw, Jess ensured that they'd have something to eat for their afternoon meal. Actually seeing the fast draw this time, not just facing it, Thomas made note of his previous caution to never startle Jess any time in the future.

As the afternoon wore on, Thomas perceived that his horse was limping. "Jess, hold up. I think this here horse is goin' lame on me," he relayed forward to the man riding several feet ahead of him.

Reining his horse in and turning him around, Jess watched Thomas as he came forward and confirmed that the horse was limping slightly. "Get off, I'll check his hooves," Jess ordered. Thomas dismounted and held the reins of both horses as Jess examined Thomas' horse's sore hoof and leg. "Some heat here in this tendon," Jess said as he felt both front legs to compare their temperatures. "I don't think it's anything serious, but I think we're done ridin' for the day, maybe more. Did ya hit a hole or stumble on somethin'?"

"Nope, he was jest fine till a minute ago. Do ya mean we gots ta walk back to Laramie?" the older man asked wide-eyed. "That's still a day er more ride!"

"We'll have to camp here n' see how he is in the mornin'. We might have to take turns walkin' n' ridin' my horse. We can't take a lame horse back to Slim," Jess said, unable to hide his irritation at the situation. "How long did ya say that has he been limpin'?" he questioned.

"Jest started," Thomas defended himself. "I wouldn't let 'im go long without tellin' ya."

"I didn't mean it that way. I just wanted to know if it just happened."

"Of course, it jest happened. I tole ya that afore," the mountain man reconfirmed his initial testimony.

"You set up camp n' get the bird ready for supper. I'll take care of the horses n' get 'em set for the night," Jess said as he finished unsaddling his own steed and went to pull the gear off the other.

Thomas immediately dug out what he needed from the two sets of saddlebags, now lying on the ground, and commenced to setting up their camp, getting a fire going, then sitting down to pluck the spindly pheasant.

Once the horses were hobbled and settled to Jess' satisfaction, he moseyed back to the camp that Thomas had built. Thomas was just finishing spitting the bird for the fire. "Wish we had some of that thar tea I found near the river," the older man commented.

"We'll have to do without, I reckon," the Texan said as he seated himself on a large boulder near where Thomas sat. Picking up a canteen and taking a sip, "This'll do to wash down that bird. Not much meat on it looks like." Thomas nodded his head in agreement as he made sure that the spit was going to hold the pheasant steady and not allow it to fall into the blazing fire.

"Ya know, I ain't checked yer foot in a while," Thomas said as he turned to look up at the blue-eyed cowhand.

"It feels fine."

"Has the fleece dried out since our swim?"

Standing up, Jess put some weight on his injured foot to see if he felt anything squishy. "It's still a little damp, I reckon, but it's dryin' out."

"I think I better look," Thomas insisted. "I'm worried about it gittin' wet an' ridin' with it that way. That gypsy woman said nots ta git it wet."

Resigned that he would be in for an argument if he didn't give in, Jess shoved his foot in the direction of the older man.

On his hands and knees, Thomas quickly moved toward Jess' extended leg, not wanting to give the dark-haired man a chance to change his mind.

Jess' head was lowered as Thomas untied the leather thongs that held the boot in place then gently pulled the wet, muttony smelling wrapping from Jess' foot. "Sure don't smell much like daisies, do it?" Thomas commented as he lifted Jess' foot higher, to examine it closely, almost toppling the younger man off his perch. As he scrutinized the injury meticulously, Thomas let out an astonished whistle, catching Jess' attention as he rebalanced himself on the rock.

"What's wrong?" Jess quickly asked, distress showing in his eyes. How much more could go wrong, he wondered. It looked like they were going to be doing a lot of walking over the next day or so. He surely didn't need to hear that the infection was coming back.

"Nothin'!" the mountaineer exclaimed. "I can'ts believe what I sees. It's as pink as a baby's bottom. Lookin' real good. Them gypsies really know what they's doin'."

Grabbing hold of his leg and twisting it as best as he could to observe for himself, Jess was pleasantly surprised to see that the wound looked almost healed. Had there not been a small, moist scab over the punctured area, his foot would have looked nearly normal. It was wrinkled and bleached white from the dampness of the sheepskin covering, but otherwise, it looked normal.

"It doesn't bother ya none now?" Thomas questioned.

"Nope, nearly forgot all about it," Jess responded, marveling at how quickly the wound seemed to be disappearing since Thomas applied the last of the salve. "Maybe gettin' it wet helped?"

"The gypsy lady said not ta git it wet," the grizzly bear of a man said as he stood up and went to the fire to turn the spit and keep the pheasant from burning. Looking over his shoulder at Jess, he added, "I sure hope walkin' on it won't hurt it none, if we gotta walk all the way back to Laramie."

"Me, too," Jess replied, still looking at his foot and poking his index finger at it, looking for any tender spots. "We can only hope that the horse will be sound come mornin'. Sure wish my boot wasn't ruined," he glared at the older man, "I think I could wear it now. It would sure make walkin' a lot easier than that sheepskin hide."

"Seems pert sturdy ta me," Thomas said as he picked up the makeshift boot and handed it to Jess. Jess made a grab for the sheepskin, but Thomas pulled away from his reach. "Now ain'tcha glad that I found ya an' cut away yer boot. By now yer leg would be black an' yer foot prob'ly woulda fallen off in that ole boot."

Jess reached for the sheepskin boot again and Thomas pulled it away once more. "Well?" Thomas asked, wide-eyed and staring at Jess.

"Okay," Jess said, smiling in spite of himself, "I reckon I owe ya a lot, Thomas. But remember, I saved your sorry hide back in Colorado."

"I ain't fergot, Jess. I reckon we're both boots cut from the same leather. An' we sure do make a sorry pair, don't we?" Thomas replied with a belly laugh. "Reckon we're even, ain't we," Thomas said matter-of-factly, then added, "Though, I reckon there ain't no gittin' even when ya saves someone's life."

"I have to agree with ya there," Jess said as he retrieved the legging and fitted it back on his foot and bound the leather ties to keep it in place. "I'm glad they thought to put the leather sole on this thing. There's a lot of hard ground between here n' Laramie. Now don't let that bird burn," Jess admonished, pointing to the smoking campfire.

 **Chapter 58**

A ravenous Andy dove eagerly into his steak. Flint had to tell the boy to slow down, "If you eat it that fast you'll forget you ate it," the scout said with grin as he sliced a chunk off the large steak on his plate.

Andy looked up from the interest in his plate to smile broadly at the chestnut-haired man. "You know, you sound just like Jonesy," he commented.

"Jonesy, he's the man you told me about on the trail? He helps take care of the ranch?"

"Yeah. Slim calls him the foreman. He's really more like havin' a ma an' pa around. He kinda takes care of the house, does the cookin' an laundry an' such an' takes care of all of us real good," Andy said, taking note at how delicately Flint was carving his steak and eating it, savoring each bite. Exaggeratedly, but not in a mocking way, Andy tried to imitate the eating actions of the wagon train scout.

Seriousness came to the boy's face, quickly turning into an inquisitive look, "Flint?"

Glancing up from his plate, Flint looked at the teenaged boy.

"Remember when ya said that I didn't look like Cal? Well, like it meant somethin' to ya, like ya knew he was lyin' b'cause we didn't look alike?"

"Yeah, I remember," Flint replied as he took a sip of the milk he'd ordered for himself and Andy. He would have preferred a fine wine, but wanted to set a good example for the boy.

"Well, I don't look like my brother Slim. If ya woulda met him, maybe ya wouldn't've believed me."

With a smile and a twinkle coming to his nut-colored eyes, Flint said, "Why would you think that? A lot of siblings don't favor each other. You have two parents. Sometimes you look more like one than the other. Sometimes you look like a blend of them both. I have my father's red hair, but my mother's brown eyes. I'm probably my father's height, but my facial features are more like my mother's."

"Oh," the boy said with a sigh of relief. "Ya see, Slim is tall an' blonde, like our pa. Me, I favor our ma, shorter an' with dark hair, kinda more like Jess."

"Jess? He's your brother, too?" Flint asked with some confusion. All of a sudden the boy's story wasn't adding up. On the trail, Andy had said that Jess was a hired hand.

"Naw, I just like to pretend that he is. He kinda sticks up for me sometimes an' we sometimes sneak off for a swim or go fishin' when we're suppose to be workin'."

Catching the phrase 'sticking up for', Flint became a bit concerned. "Does this Jonesy or your brother treat you badly?"

"No, nothin' like that. I know I sometimes think they give me too many chores to do. But after bein' at Cal's, the work at the ranch is a lot easier, I reckon. It just seems like sometimes I just don't have enough time for fishin' or swimmin' an' such. Before Jess came to the ranch, I wouldn't dare to sneak off to do those things. At least now, when we do an' get caught, they holler mostly at Jess cause he tells 'em that it was all his idea, even when it might be mine."

"You think you have too many chores?" Flint asked, wiping his mouth with his linen napkin, giving the teen a stern look. "You know, Andy, chores help build you into a man. We all have to work when we become adults and your chores teach you to be responsible. As long as you're not being mistreated," the older man said, looking into the boy's eyes for a truthful response.

"I reckon that I thought Slim made me do a lot of work at the ranch, but it sure was a lot easier than what Cal was makin' me do. I know that Slim an' Jess do a lot more than I do, an' it's a whole lot harder work than I haveta do. Sometimes I think I'd rather be out chasin' cattle than workin' on limberin' up leather harnesses."

Flint smiled, heaving a gentle sigh of relief and adjusting his posture as he realized that the boy wasn't mistreated, just dissatisfied with the chores assigned to him. "I think that as you get older, you'll be out chasing cattle, just like your brothers. By then, you'll be wishing that you were back sitting in a nice shady spot and working on some leather harnesses." Reaching across the small round table to pat Andy's hand, "You know, Andy, every man is somebody, he just has to find himself, and I think your brother is trying to help you find out who you really are."

"Ya know, Flint, I reckon you're probably right," the youngster said thoughtfully as he dove back into his steak, then suddenly remembered that he wasn't suppose to shovel it in as fast as he could. He put a sliver of meat in his mouth, set back in his chair, and slowly chewed it, actually finding out how much more he was enjoying it by really tasting it instead of just satisfying the hungry lion in his stomach. While carving at the steak, Andy then asked, "Did you have chores to do when you were my age?"

"Maybe more. My father died when I was around thirteen. I had to take on a lot of the chores at home. I was real lucky, though. We had a good friend that treated me like a son. His name is Jim Bridger, I'm sure you've heard of him. They named a Fort after him up in the Wyoming territory. When I was about your age my family lived in Ute country. Jim was a good friend with them. They were a friendly tribe. They spoke Siouan, it's kind of a universal language with most of the tribal people out here. I learned a lot about the Indians and learned their language, thanks to Jim. When I was eighteen I returned east with Jim and visited where I was born. Jim was my mentor. When he became a scout for General Albert Sydney Johnston, I decided to do the same and become a scout," Flint related, realizing that he'd opened up to the boy more about his life than probably was necessary to prove his point.

Wide-eyed, Andy nearly forgot about the food on his plate as he took in the wagon train scout's story. "Did you fight in the war?" he asked eagerly.

Sorry that he'd revealed that portion of his life, Flint tried to cut things short with a curt, "Yes".

"Which side did ya fight for?" Andy pressed.

"Eat your steak before it gets cold," Flint reminded him, pointing to the boy's plate.

Carving another portion off the piece of meat, Andy asked again about Flint's affiliation.

Resigned that Andy wasn't about to drop the subject, Flint said, "The South. When the South surrendered I wanted to return to the western frontier. I was a stagecoach driver for the Jamison Stage Lines for a spell then later joined up as a scout with Major Seth Adams. He's who I'm working for now."

"My brother fought for the North," Andy said, but quickly added, "but Jess fought for the South. I've heard about both sides. When I was younger I thought I wanted to go to war, but after listenin' to Jess an' Slim, I don't think so much about it now."

Seriousness passed over the older man's face as he responded, "No, you don't want to go to war, Andy. It's a terrible thing. And that one was worse than most. Brother fighting brother, father fighting son, and why? Nobody really won. No one wins a war. Someone just loses more than the other and it doesn't determine who's right, only who's left. That war destroyed a great country. Oh, it's rebuilding, but the south is going to need a long time to recover. So much of it was burned, cities, plantations. War doesn't decide who's right, only who's left. The loss of life on both sides, it was all so tragic. No, Andy, you don't want to ever have to go to war. Right now, staying alive out here in the west with all the friction between the white people and the Indian people is almost like a war, I guess it really is in too many ways, people dying on both sides. It's wrong, but I understand it. I've seen life on both sides and none of it's right. The Indians see the white man taking away their hunting grounds and ruining the land in so many ways and they hate us for it. The white-man calls it progress. I'm not sure it is, not really. Somehow, I don't see things changing any time soon. I have no answers, at least none that anyone of importance wants to listen to. Jim tried to reason with some people about what is going on out here with the native people, but they didn't want to listen to him any," the scout said, regrettably.

"I know, Flint. I wish we didn't haveta worry about the Indians attackin' us at the ranch. My brother's made peace with many of them nearby, but sometimes…" Andy trailed off as sadness filled his eyes.

"Maybe, some day," Flint said with a sigh that ended in a long silence between the two as they continued to pick at their dinner. "Do you think you'll have room for desert?" Flint asked, trying to elevate the boy's frame of mind after all the seriousness of the conversation.

"I always have room for desert," the boy replied, the fervor returning to his eyes as he broke a smile.

"Wake up, sleepy head," Flint softly said, rousting the sleeping boy by placing his hand on Andy's recumbent shoulder. The scout was awakened by an internal clock to witness the morning sunrise and had dressed and shaved, ready to start out the day. He didn't want to wake the teen too early, knowing how exhausted Andy was from his recent experiences. Once again, Andy slept soundly hardly stirring all night. As Andy gained consciousness, he stretched his hands high over his head then rolled over to face Flint.

"Mornin'," Andy said, followed quickly with a yawn.

"Morning. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. I had some dreams about the ranch. I can't wait to get back home and see Slim an' Jonesy an' Jess."

"I'm sure you can't. Let's go get some breakfast. Then we'll check the telegraph office to see if we've heard from your brother yet," Flint said as he reached for Andy's clothes and handed them to him.

Uneasiness hit Andy while he reached for his pants and shirt, "Flint, you're not gonna send me back to Cal's if we don't have an answer from Slim, are ya?" the boy asked, seeking reassurance.

Flint turned back to him and crouched down to be eye to eye with the boy still seated on the edge of the bed, "I wouldn't send you back there even if I didn't believe you. He's not a good man, and if there was any way for me to take his son away from him, I think I'd do that, too. But he is his son and I have to respect that. Now you, I believe everything you told me. With luck, we'll hear from your brother today and we can get you on the next stage to Laramie. I'm sure he'll send you the money as soon as he gets the telegram. It might just take time. If we don't hear right away, don't worry, I'll find some place for you to stay here in town. Maybe the parson can take you in while you wait to hear from your brother. You are not," Flint emphasized not, "going back to Cal's cabin. So get that out of your head." Flint flashed a smile, as he cupped Andy's chin in his hand. The smile was contagious and Andy reflected it, a little cautiously at first, back at Flint. "Now get dressed. You can come with me when I check for the other family's arrival. They sent word that they should be here today or tomorrow. You can stay here with me until I have to leave. Rest assured, I'll find you a safe place to wait in town if I have to leave before I see you off on the stagecoach. I'm really hoping that I'll be here to send you off."

While shaking out his folded clothes, a carved, wooden whistle fell from Andy's shirt pocket and hit the floor. Flint bent down to pick it up, "What's this?" he queried.

"I forgot I had that with me," Andy replied as he reached for the wooden toy. "It's a whistle that Jess made for me. He told me that if I ever needed him, I could use it to call him," the boy smiled at the memory of receiving the little gift.

"Does it work?" Flint asked.

"Sure," Andy said as he lifted it to his lips and blew lightly on it, and a high-pitched tone was softly heard.

"No, I mean, if you blow into it, will Jess come for you?" the scout teased.

"I don't think they can hear it all the way back in Laramie," Andy responded, knowing now that Flint was teasing him. "Actually, I never really tried. It seems like Jess was always there when I needed him, except for now," he unconsciously cast his eyes toward the floor, but quickly recovered, not wanting to offend Flint, "Oh Flint, I'm so glad you found me," the boy couldn't help expressing his gratitude, "I only meant…"

"I'm glad I found you, too," Flint interrupted, "and I know what you meant. I wish your friend could have found you, too, and long before Cal did. Now get dressed. We don't want to get to the restaurant after they run out of eggs, do we?"

Jumping up from the bed, Andy quickly put on his pants and shirt over the summer-weight long underwear he'd slept in and tucked the wooden whistle back into his shirt breast pocket.

Jess was awake long before Thomas stirred. Since there was nothing for breakfast, he decided to let the older man get his rest while he went to check on the lame horse. The heat seemed to have dissipated from the tendon and when he led the horse, the animal appeared to be walking soundly on the injured leg. "How ya feelin', boy?" he asked as he stroked the horse's neck.

A little jealousy was aroused in Traveler who hopped to where Jess was tending the other horse, wanting his share of attention. Petting his own animal on the neck then nuzzling his face into the horse's mane, Jess once again reflected on the task ahead of him. He'd rehearsed in his mind how he was going to break the news to Slim, but the words never seemed right. "How does someone tell anyone about the death of a loved one," he confided in his trusty horse. Jess had always found it easier to talk things out with Traveler since the animals loved him for who he was, never judging him as he'd found coming from many humans.

Removing the scarves used to make up the temporary hobbles on his horse, the young cowboy noticed that Thomas was now awake and kicking dirt on what was left of their campfire. He removed the hobbles from the other horse and led them toward the camp. As he crossed the field, Jess became aware of what looked like an apple tree just beyond where they'd camped. Leaving the horses with Thomas, he said, "I'll be right back. I think I found us some breakfast," as he hurried off.

Coming back to where Thomas was still picking up from around the camp, Jess handed the man some apples. "A little dry, but still edible," the cowboy declared, breaking one in half and handing a half to each horse. "I'm surprised these two didn't find them last night," Jess said, motioning toward the horses.

"Good grass," Thomas said, pointing to where the horses had been grazing. "All that rain sure growed it up nice, didn't it? Prob'ly better than some ol' dry apples."

"I reckon," Jess replied. "I'm glad they didn't. There are enough apples covering the ground that they would've had a bad belly ache today. Bad enough we might have one that's still lame."

"He looked like he was walkin' good when ya brought 'im here."

"We'll know in a minute or so," Jess said, as he reached for and put a bridle on Thomas' mount. Hopping onto the horse bareback, Jess took the animal for a short jaunt out into the field and then back to the camp. "He's still a little gingery on it. I think we're gonna have to do some hikin' I'm afraid," he said as he jumped down.

"Damn," Thomas said with passion as he kicked a stump causing him to wince, but quickly recovered, "I was hopin' he'd be better t'day."

"I was, too," Jess agreed. "We'll check him later on today. He might walk the soreness out, as long as we just lead him. Carryin' the gear will be enough for him for now. We'll take turns ridin' Trav."

The two men saddled up their respective horses and both commenced to walking, side by side, leading their animals as they headed north.

 **Chapter 59**

Strolling the boardwalk to the telegraph office, Andy didn't know what to expect. Knowing how far the ranch was from town, he was concerned about how long it would take for the message to reach Slim. And after the length of time since his disappearance, Andy was sure that Jess and Slim were out searching for him. Jonesy would most likely be the only one at home to receive the telegram. He wondered if Jonesy would have the funds or availability of funds to send them to him if Slim wasn't around. The realization that he might be stuck in Fort Collins for some time before the money arrived terrified him, especially if Flint was no longer there with him. He'd grown quite fond of the tall, gentle scout with the charming smile. If for any reason he couldn't go home, he thought, he'd love to join Flint and maybe learn scouting. It sounded like a romantic way to settle the restless, adventurous spirit to the teen boy. But that thought was quickly gone, his heart told him that he truly wanted to go home and that there was no reason that he shouldn't or couldn't. Even if the money didn't arrive, he'd find a way to get home. Andy was now more determined than ever. If he had to find a job cleaning stalls, washing dishes, whatever it might take to afford the fare to Laramie or buy a horse to ride back home, he was going to get back to the ranch.

Breaking the boy's train of thought, Flint startled Andy when he said, "Well, here we are, Andy. Go on in and see if your brother wired you the money to get you home."

"You're not goin' in with me ain't ya?" Andy asked, looking up at the broad-shouldered scout.

"Do you want me to?" Flint asked. "I thought you might want to take these steps on your own," he said, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Andy thought for a moment then said, "You're my friend, Flint. I want ya with me an' know everything that's goin' on. I want ya to see that I do have a brother in Laramie. That I wasn't lyin' to you."

"Oh, I believe you, Andy. I have no doubt about anything you've told me. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to be with you if you're disappointed because they have no response from your brother yet. I know how much you want to hear from him. Andy, I have a feeling that he might not be in Laramie. He's probably out searching for you since you were expected home before this. I didn't want to be in your way if there wasn't a message. You might want a few minutes to yourself."

"No, Flint, please come with me," Andy requested, his eyes welling up with tears as he took Flint's hand. "You're probably right. Maybe I won't hear anything yet. But I should hear somethin' from Jonesy as soon as he gets the message. He can tell me if I have to wait or if he can send me money. Flint, I think I should hear something in a day or two. I, I…."

"Well, I guess we won't know if we stand out here jawing about it," Flint interrupted as the boy started to run out of words. Once again he gave a cheerful smile and squeezed Andy's hand in a reassuring way. "Let's go then," the scout said as he opened the telegraph office door, allowing Andy to enter first. Gently pushing the boy up to the counter, Flint said, "Okay, it's your message, you ask," the scout directed, trying to ingrain a little independence into the youth.

Looking up at Flint with doe eyes, Andy went to the high desk and turned to address the clerk, "Hi. My name's Andy, Andrew Sherman," he corrected himself. I sent a wire to Laramie to Slim Sherman yesterday. Have I gotten a reply yet?"

The clerk went to the pigeon holed message boxes against the wall behind the counter and brought back a piece of paper with him. "Yes, you have a message Mr. Sherman. It's from someone called Mort," he read from the piece of paper before handing it to Andy. The clerk, head down and looking over the rim of his glasses said, "He also wired you some money. I'll have to go get it from the safe," the bespectacled man said before turning to walk away into a small room to the right of the counter.

Excitedly, Andy turned to face Flint. "Did you hear that? Mort sent the money!" he exclaimed with a broad grin.

"Who's Mort?" Flint asked, more than a little curiously confused.

"He's the Laramie sheriff and a good friend of our family. Hank at the telegraph office must've taken my telegram to his office an' he sent the money to get me home. That must mean that Slim's out lookin' for me," Andy surmised.

"If you go home and your brother isn't there, will you be okay?" Flint asked sternly, concern evident in his voice.

"Jonesy will be there at the ranch," Andy declared.

"Oh yeah, Jonesy. The caretaker," Flint recalled with a smile.

The clerk came back to the counter with an envelope, opened it and counted out the paper bills inside and replaced them in the envelope. He then presented the sleeved money to Andy and asked him to sign a form that he'd received it. Hardly able to contain himself, Andy nervously signed the form and turned back to see the smiling scout leaning against the near wall, his arms crossed across his chest, his left leg bent at the knee and the sole of his boot braced against the wall, his hat tilted on the back of his head.

"What does your message say?" Flint asked as he straightened to stand tall next to the boy and put his hand on Andy's shoulder. Andy had already folded the telegram and put it, unread, into his pocket. He was so excited to know that he had the money to go home, he'd forgotten all about the piece of paper.

"Oh yeah," the teen said as he pulled the folded telegram out from his pocket and read it. "It's from Mort, 'Slim's hurt-stop-Sending money-stop-Will take him message-stop-Mort'. Slim's hurt!" Andy exclaimed. "I wonder what happened?" the boy said, worry creasing his brow as the two left the telegraph office.

"I reckon you'll find out when you get home. I'm sure everything will be all right," Flint said as he put his hand on Andy's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm glad the money came so quickly. Let's go to the stage depot and buy your fare. Maybe we can get you on a stage home today," the dark red-haired scout said as he turned the boy in the direction of the stage depot at the other end of the street.

At a loss for words, his thoughts on his brother, Andy ambled along beside the taller man as they made their way to the stagecoach office. "Flint, I wish you could go back to Laramie with me," Andy finally blurted out. He wasn't really sure why, but he had a sudden need to keep the security of Flint close to him.

"I wish I could, Andy, but I have a job to do and so do you. I have to get some families out to the wagon train so they can start their new lives in California, and you have to get back home to help your brother with the ranch. If he's hurt, he's going to really need your help. No wonder we haven't found anyone looking for you," Flint theorized as they dodged a drunk stumbling through the batwing doors of the saloon as they walked by. Flint stopped to help steady the man before he and Andy continued on their way, but they heard a crash and splash as the drunk fell against the boardwalk side-rail, breaking it and falling into a horse watering trough situated against the wall of the high-built walkway.

Flint turned to go help the man with the snootful but two men, not quite as drunk as their companion, came out from the saloon, laughed, then staggered down the steps to the road and went to the trough to help the spitting and sputtering old man out from the water.

Andy, his jaw hanging open, was shocked into silence at what he'd seen. Slim had always kept him from town most of the time, especially in the evening, and he'd never encountered any falling down drunks in his short, sheltered life. "Have those men been out all night?" the teen asked in his innocence.

Rather than elaborate on what had happened, and slightly embarrassed at exposing Andy to the scene, Flint turned his companion back to the direction in which they were originally headed. When they reached the stage office, Flint opened the door for Andy and followed him in and up to the elevated front desk. The clerk approached them almost immediately, asking if he could help them. Andy inquired about a ticket to Laramie. The clerk looked at the schedules and told Andy that there would be a stage leaving that afternoon, but it would be making several stops at several towns in its roundabout route. If he wanted to wait until the next morning at ten o'clock, there was a stage headed almost straight to Laramie, only two town stops and the normal team relief stops, one of them being at the Sherman Ranch.

Smiling at the mention of the Sherman Ranch, Andy glanced at Flint and asked, "Would it okay if I wait until tomorrow's stage?"

"If that's the one you want to take, it's fine with me," Flint said, proud that Andy made the decision for himself. He recognized how anxious the teen was to get home, and was pleased that the boy thought it out enough to opt for the best choice. It would surely have been Flint's own selection had it been necessary to make one.

"You know, Andy, I might be leaving some time today," Flint reminded the teenager.

"I know," Andy replied sadly. "But maybe you won't," he added, hope shinning in his revelation, "and we'll be able to spend a little more time together."

"Well, I have some work to do. You can tag along with me, if you want, or the room is still ours until three o'clock, unless I need it for another night. We'll have to figure out about what you're going to do if I have to leave. Right now I have to go to the mercantile. They'll know what's going on with the wagon that's supposed to arrive sometime today. They'd said a day or two, so, you're right I may be staying another day."

Andy looked a little depressed at the thought of no longer being with his new friend, as he tried to keep in pace with the long stride of the scout as they walked down the boardwalk. Flint glanced at the boy and noticed his glum expression, "Cheer up, Andy. We still have some time together and even better, you'll be home in another day. The stage you chose will most likely have you home by supper."

"I know, Flint. I still wish you would come with me. I know you'd like Slim an' Jess. Maybe you'd like workin' at the ranch," Andy suggested, trying to convince Flint to join him and go back with him to Laramie.

"I don't think so, Andy. I really enjoy my work, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it. I'm guiding folks to find a new life. That's pretty satisfying. Besides, I really like the freedom of the wide open country."

"So did Jess, but he's happy at the ranch now," Andy pleaded as they continued down the boardwalk, avoiding passing the saloon by walking on the opposite side of the road.

"I could go for a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. How about you," Flint suggested as they stopped in front of a small café. "We can go to the mercantile after we finish with our treat. There are still only two wagons waiting there, I see. Maybe by the time we come out, the other wagon will be hitched there and getting their last minute supplies. What do you say?"

"Sure," Andy agreed, not admitting that Slim thought that he was too young to drink coffee. One more thing to add to his adventure, Andy thought, his first cup of coffee. Yes, he was really growing up.

The mismatched pair entered the small eatery and sat down at a small, round table, draped with a red and white-checkered tablecloth. Flint, having taken his hat off upon entering the café, placed it on the unoccupied chair next to him. A middle-aged woman, her faded blonde hair pulled back severely, came to the table. "Kin I help you folks?" she asked.

"What kind of pie do you have?" Flint asked, leaning on his hand, his elbow resting on the table as he gave the woman his most charming smile and full attention.

Flattered to feel like she was being flirted with, the woman smoothed her apron, then touched her hair, hoping that it was all still pinned properly in place. She rattled off a list of the pies they had available and Flint looked to Andy to allow him to choose first.

"I'm, I'm not sure," he stammered, some of the choices he'd never heard of, at least not in a pie. "I'll have whatever you're havin', Flint," he finally capitulated, "Oh, and a cup of coffee."

"I think I'll have a piece of that raspberry pie. Can you pour a little heavy cream over it?" Flint asked, and the waitress nodded that she could fulfill his request, "and a black coffee for me. Andy, want sugar or cream for your coffee," he asked the teen as he turned his attention away from the waitress.

"Nope, black is good with me," Andy said, figuring that if it was good enough for Flint it was good enough for him. Besides, that's how Slim and Jess liked it best.

The waitress brought their coffee first then went back to the kitchen to fetch their pie. Andy picked up his cup to take a sip of the aromatic brew. He was unpleasantly surprised at how bitter it was, but tried to hide his displeasure. He was going to drink it, no mater what. Now, though, he wished he'd asked for some sugar to sweeten it.

Andy may have tried to hide his surprise at the taste of the bitter drink, but Flint didn't miss his reaction. Realizing that it was probably Andy's first taste of coffee, the scout didn't say anything, only hid a wry smile behind his cup as he sipped at the hot liquid, thoroughly enjoying the freshly brewed drink. "Good coffee," he finally said, watching for Andy's reaction.

Eagerly, Andy agreed, picking up his cup again to take another tiny sip and disguise his dissatisfaction. He wondered how the grown ups drank this stuff and actually seemed to like it. But he put on a blithe face, as best as he could, and continued to take small sips, pretending to enjoy every sip. Watching the boy's discomfort amused the scout, knowing that one cup of coffee surely wouldn't hurt him any, but might teach him a valuable lesson.

When the pie arrived, Flint pulled a few coins from his pocket and paid the waitress, thanking her for the service and especially for the extra cream he'd requested to be poured over the berry pie. Quite smitten with the handsome scout, the waitress was reluctant to leave the table, but couldn't think of any reason to remain. She went behind the long bar-like seating area, hoping that her services would be needed again, anything to have reason to go speak with the attractive customer once more. Suddenly the thought that the pair could be father and son brought a blush to her face, but it didn't deter her from keeping her eyes on the striking chestnut-haired man.

Andy forked a piece of his pie, and was delighted at the taste and texture as well as the light flaky crust. Jonesy seldom baked anything but apple pie. The raspberries were delightful and he was enjoying every bite, wishing he didn't have to wash it down with the acrid coffee. From now on he'd be sure to order milk, he thought. The teen forced himself to finish his drink, but refused more when the waitress came around to ask if they wanted a refill. Flint asked if Andy was sure, as the scout picked up his cup and offered it to the waitress to refill.

At the mercantile, Flint learned that the last wagon should arrive by afternoon. It would be too late to leave town and head out that day for the train, so he decided that staying one more night at the hotel was in everyone's best interest. Andy was delighted.

"I might even be able to put you on the stage before I have to leave, tomorrow," Flint said jovially. "Look, I have some business to take care of at the livery. Could you go back to the boarding house and reserve our room for another night? I really could use your help."

Tickled that he'd have Flint's companionship for another day, and that Flint was assigning him some important work to do, Andy was quick to agree to make sure that they would continue to have accommodations for the night.

"While you're there, Andy, would you ask if there's a Bill Hawks registered yet? He should be here by now. I checked this morning, but he hadn't arrived yet. If he's there, would you see if he's in his room and ask him to come to the livery and meet with me? He has the money from the Major to pick up some fresh horses. I'm going to go pick some out and I need him there to pay for them. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, Flint," Andy said, again feeling very important to be helping the scout with his business. "Do you want me to come back with Bill?" he asked.

"I'll leave that up to you. If you want to, that's fine with me, but I think you'll find our business pretty boring. If you want to wait up to the room, that's all right with me. Just be sure to lock the door and not let anyone in except me or Bill, okay?" Flint said, handing Andy the key.

"I won't," Andy promised. "But I think I'd rather come back here."

It was the answer that Flint expected, but he wanted the boy to feel that he had some choices to make for himself. Flint didn't really expect Cal to show up in town, but there were other dangers in the booming town. With the short distance to the boarding house and back, there was little trouble for Andy to run into, Flint reasoned, and if Bill was at the hotel to accompany Andy back to the livery all the better.

Entering the livery, Flint greeted the stable hand and asked after the owner of the horses in the corral to the side of the building. "Those are Mr. Deming's horses. He'll be here shortly. He's the owner. I just work here," the young stableman replied as he reached for a broom to sweep the aisleway that separated the double row of box stalls to the left and straight stalls to the right.

"That'll be fine," Flint said. "I'll be spending some time with my horse, the buckskin that I brought yesterday?" The barn keeper pointed to the far end of the stable. Flint went to that end of the barn and entered the stall with his horse after picking up a brush from a nearby shelf. "Hi, boy. I hope you're enjoying your vacation," he said as he patted the horse's neck, then started brushing him. When he got to the hindquarters, an idea struck him and he plucked some long hairs from the horse's tail, tucking them into his shirt pocket. He wasn't completely done grooming his horse when he heard Andy's voice, asking the stable man about him. "I'm back here, Andy," Flint called out.

"The room is ours," Andy reported as he leaned over the rail side of the stall, "and Mr. Hawks is in town, but he isn't in his room. I asked the clerk to tell him that we're down here. He said he'd tell Bill if he comes back to the hotel."

"Thanks, Andy," Flint said as he stepped out from the buckskin horse's enclosure. "Here, use this to take care of Cal's horse," Flint said, handing the soft bristle brush to the boy and accepting the return of their room key from him. "We don't want Cal to say that we didn't take proper care of his horse while we were using him. I'm going outside to look at those horses. The owner is supposed to be here in a few minutes. I want to pick out some likely looking animals to take back to the train with me. When you're done with Cal's horse, come on out. Maybe you can help me find some good ones, okay?"

By the time Andy had finished grooming Cal's horse and joined Flint at the corral, Bill had already found him and the two were dickering with a third man over the price of some horses that they'd selected. Not wanting to interrupt their business, Andy parked himself on a nearby nail keg, waiting, listening to the transactions, and observing their interactions as the men tried to enter into their best deal. Thoughts of home and Slim dealing with selling some of their horses entered his mind. Selling horses must be pretty much the same everywhere, he speculated. His thoughts then turned to the message he'd received. Slim was injured. He wished that he knew what was wrong, but like Flint had said, he'd find out once he got home. It didn't make his concern any easier.

Fidgeting for comfort, Andy crossed his arms across his chest and felt the lump in his buttoned pocket and pulled out the whistle. Fiddling with it, examining the workmanship, a smile suddenly spread across his face as his eyes focused on Flint. Putting the whistle back into his pocket, the teen had made up his mind. Yes, he'd just had a wonderful idea.

Once they'd all agreed on a price for the four horses Flint, Bill and Mr. Deming headed back into the stable to finalize all the paperwork. As Flint passed Andy he said, "Come on Andy. We'll be done here in a few minutes."

Flint knuckled Bill in the chest to get his attention, "Bill, this is my friend Andy."

Bill stopped and looked the boy up and down, then put out his hand in a friendly way. Andy reached out and shook hands with the muscular blonde man, "Nice to meet ya, Bill," Andy said.

"Likewise," Bill responded, then turned to Flint, "You're still pickin' up strays, I see," he then chuckled as they all continued on into the barn and into a small walled-off section that served as an office near the front of the building.

Once their business was completed, the paperwork signed and the time set that they'd pick up the horses the next day, Bill suggested that Flint and he go have a beer at the saloon. Feeling guilty for wanting to go with Bill, Flint looked quickly at Andy, but the teenager understood and told Flint that he was a little tired and wanted to go back to their room. Andy said that Flint and his friend should go have a good time. Flint reached for Andy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze and dug into his pocket for the hotel key and handed it to him. "I'll come get you for supper, okay?" Flint assured the boy. "Remember what I said about answering the door."

"Don't open it to anyone but you or Bill," Andy said with a slight smile.

"Good boy," Flint said. "Now off with you," he said and watched Andy start across the street toward the rooming house before he and Bill turned to go in the opposite direction to the saloon.

In the room, Andy watched out the window. He couldn't see the saloon from his vantage point, but he hoped that he might catch a glimpse of Flint returning. He felt a little pang of jealousy that he wasn't included in going to the bar, but after seeing the drunken men that left that establishment, he was sure that it wasn't a place he wanted to visit. Andy felt Flint's discomfort when Bill suggested that they go to have a beer and Andy tried hard to make Flint feel that it was perfectly all right with him to go with his friend. He wasn't sure how convincing he was at the moment, but now the boy was sorry he didn't try to tag along. He wondered if Flint would have taken him along or not. "Probably not," he decided, answering his own question as he gazed out the window and down the street once more.

A knock came to the door. In a panic, Andy didn't know what to do. At first he sat quietly, hoping that they would go away, but a knock came again and he heard someone say, "Flint. Flint are you in there?"

Going to the door, Andy called out, "Flint's not here. Who are you?"

"My name's Dixon, Jim Dixon. I'm supposed to meet Flint and Bill here. I'm going back to the wagon train with them. Flint is expecting me. Do you know where he is?"

"He's with Bill over at the saloon," Andy replied, hoping that he was doing the right thing. The stranger appeared to know about Flint, Bill, and the wagon train, so Andy innocently assumed that the man at the door had to be a friend.

"Thanks," the faceless voice said, and Andy could hear the footsteps as the man walked away and down the hallway. Going back to the window, the teen watched as a man left the building and headed off in the direction of the saloon. He figured that this was the man who had knocked at the door.

"I sure hope I did the right thing," Andy mumbled to himself. He was sure that he had. At least he obeyed Flint's orders to not open the door. Flint didn't say anything about talking to anyone through the closed door. 'Funny', Andy thought, 'Flint never mentioned meeting Mr. Dixon in town,' but then the boy recalled Flint telling him that he had a couple of friends he was meeting in town that he could take back with him when he returned Cal's horse. Mr. Dixon must have been one of those friends, he hoped.

Walking around the room, Andy came across a small bible. He picked it up and sat next to the window to read and pass some time. He frequently glanced out the window, not really absorbing anything he'd read as he hoped to see his friend returning. It seemed like an eternity, but finally he saw Flint, Bill and the stranger he'd seen leaving the hotel, coming back to the rooming house.

 **Chapter 60**

The walking was rough, just as Jess predicted. They'd only walked about five miles when Thomas started complaining about blisters rising on his feet. Jess felt for the man, his own feet were hurting, not to the point of blisters, but they were tired. He was amazed that the sheepskin boot was actually more comfortable for walking than his "fancy-dandy boot," as Thomas christened it.

Thomas sat down on a rock and removed one of his worn boots and examined his ruddy foot through the ragged holes in his socks. Noticing that the man's socks were almost nonexistent, Jess tried to hide his amusement. He sadly realized how poor Thomas really was. Jess wished he had some good socks along with him to offer the older man to soften the friction of the tattered boots from rubbing against Thomas' unprotected skin. Thomas noticed Jess scrutinizing him and commented, "M' Sunday socks. Their holey," Thomas said, unable to stifle his chuckle at his joke. Jess just shook his head, with a small grin, as he removed his "fancy-dandy" boot to rub and rest his sore toes.

"I reckon we better start takin' turns on Trav," Jess stated. "You take the first shift, Thomas."

Thomas wasn't about to argue. Shifting his sock around so some of the cloth covered the blistering skin, he carefully slipped his boot back on and ambled slowly toward the bay horse and proceeded to climb up into the saddle. "How long b'fore we try out the other horse?" the older man asked.

"He's still walkin' sound an' I don't feel any heat in his tendon anymore," Jess said as he straightened up from examining the horse's leg. "I don't wanna try him too soon. Maybe after we find somethin' to eat this afternoon we can give it a try," the cowboy continued, patting the horse's neck as he picked up the reins to lead him along and walk beside Thomas riding Traveler.

In the saddle, Thomas twisted around from his vantage point hoping to maybe spot a homestead close by where they might be able to borrow another horse. But there was nothing but wide-open fields and a sprinkling of trees within his sight.

They were getting close enough to the ranch now that Jess recognized some rocky landmarks in the distance. He realized that they were nowhere near anything. No farms. No ranches. No towns. They weren't even in his thoughts. He had only one thing driving him, to get back to the ranch and complete his task. He was steeling himself for the difficult report he had to deliver to his employer. The cowboy had plenty of time to sort out his thoughts, think over what Thomas had preached to him, and felt that he was now as ready as he would ever be to complete his mission. He surely didn't like it, but he was aware of what he had to do it, as much as he would have rather turned and gone in a different direction, never returning to Laramie. But he couldn't do that to Slim. Though he had no real answers for the rancher of what happened to Andy, at least what he did learn was better than nothing. He owed that much to the big-hearted rancher who took in the useless saddle tramp that the last few days made him feel he still was.

Thomas glanced down often at the dark-haired cowboy walking next to him, but never caught his eye. Jess' eyes remained looking straight ahead. The mountain man recognized the pain in Jess' expression wasn't from his injury. It was a pain that was imbedded deep in his heart. Thomas knew that he'd said all he could to help the younger man resolve the conflict going on in his mind. He wished that there was some magic he could do to make things easier for Jess, but he was sure that there was nothing to help the situation short of a miracle. It was a bad one, he admitted, and was glad that it wasn't his alone. He'd be there to support Jess when he reported their findings to Slim, but there was no more than that that he could do now. And no matter what Jess decided after he'd talked with Slim, Thomas decided he'd support him there, too. If Jess truly wanted to go to the Black Hills with him and do some prospecting, Thomas decided he'd be happy to have him as a partner. He'd already seen the metal the young man was made of. He saw his honesty, tenacity, and loyalty. The integrity the man showed, his commitment to Slim and Andy, Thomas was overwhelmed. He'd never had the honor to meet a man quite like Jess.

The cowboy suddenly stopped, so Thomas pulled up on the reins of the horse. Jess was surveying their surroundings, probably getting his bearings before they continued on, Thomas surmised. Looking at the younger man, Thomas realized that Jess was sniffing the air. Thomas started sniffing at the slight breeze that whispered around them as well.

"Smell that, Thomas?" Jess asked as he looked around in all directions, trying to locate the source of the scent of smoke, possibly a camp or cook fire.

"Think it's Injuns?" Thomas inquired.

"I don't think so. If it is, we're probably in trouble. There aren't any camping in this part of the territory. This is all open range. A war or raiding party could be passing through, I reckon. We need to find out where that smoke is comin' from. Sure wish I could see it," Jess expressed his desire as his eyes scoured the horizon.

Thomas skimmed the skyline but he too couldn't see any smoke rising anywhere within their vision.

Jess started to wander away leaving the horse he'd been leading ground tied behind after patting him on the neck, puzzling Thomas as to where he might be going. "Stay there," Jess called over his shoulder as he walked up a slight incline then climbed up on some semi-stacked flat rocks to get a gander at their surroundings. Turning slowly, looking in all directions, he suddenly stopped, staring off to the northeast.

Climbing down from the small precipice, Jess returned to where Thomas was waiting. "I see some smoke off over there," Jess said pointing to the northeast. It was white and puffy that it blended into the sky's light fluffy clouds that had moved in around them. "I can't make out what it is, but if we go out there by those trees," he then pointed to a small woodsy area, "I think we can see who it might be without being seen."

"What if it's a war party?" Thomas asked, anxiously.

"What if it's not," Jess smiled grimly. "It could be a rancher out brandin' his cattle. We're in government open range here. He might have some food n' coffee with 'im. I don't know about you, but I'm gettin' real hungry. Right now, even if a bull elk stepped out in front of us, I wouldn't take a chance at firin' on it. If it is a war party we'd only be givin' away our position. I say we go find out what we're up against. It's not far out of our way. We'll still be headin' north."

The gulp that Thomas swallowed was loud enough to catch Jess' attention. "Oh yeah, you n' some Indians don't get along much, do ya, Thomas?" Jess teased. "We're a long way from where I found ya. I don't think they know ya in these parts. I think we better walk the horses to the trees," Jess suggested much to Thomas' chagrin and sore feet. "We don't want to be seen, at least not yet." Jess added.

The two men cautiously led their horses toward the thick stand of trees to their east before turning to follow in its cover, slightly inside the treed edge, stealthy moving northward. As they ventured close to running out of cover, Jess told Thomas to stay behind with the horses as he plunged to his belly and started to crawl through the tall grass toward the now visible smoke about a hundred feet or so away from the tiny forest. From the tree line, they hadn't seen any humans attending the fire, at least not walking around. Perhaps they were gathered and sitting around the small blaze, Thomas thought as he stretched from his hiding place to try and spot if they were white men or Indians.

As Jess crept on his knees and elbows closer to the campsite, he caught the definite aroma of coffee brewing. Immediately the thought crossed his mind that he didn't recall that he'd ever heard that Indians craved the addictive brew. Suddenly, not ten feet away from him, he heard the sound of feet coming in his direction. Jess rolled over on his back and pulled his side iron. A second later a giant of a man loomed over him, wearing boots, chaps, a ten gallon hat and pointing a Winchester rifle at Jess' head. "Okay, mister, stand up," the giant said, in a booming, baritone voice, "an' put that hog leg on the ground far away from yer hand."

Jess did as he was instructed, rolled over on his hands and knees and got up, his eyes never leaving the sight of his gun, hoping that he'd have a chance to reach for it, but the Winchester was now actually, not too lightly, touching his back. Not a good time for any fool moves, he realized. Standing up straight with his hands in the air, Jess turned to face the huge man, giving him a weak smile.

"Who are ya, an' why are ya sneakin' up on me?" the big man demanded.

"Me n' my friend smelled your smoke. We weren't sure if you might be an Indian war party or not. My friend's over there," Jess motioned toward the woods with his head. "We're on our way to Laramie n' we were worried about runnin' into trouble."

"Well, ya mighta found it. Why are ya goin' ta Laramie?" the man said, suspiciously looking toward the woods and strategically putting Jess' body between himself and the wooded area.

"We're goin' back home. I'm Jess Harper. I work for Slim Sherman. He has a ranch and stage relay twelve miles east of Laramie. Mister, ya got my gun. Can I put my hands down now?" Jess asked as he started to lower his hands.

"Nope. Put 'em back up high. Me an' you are goin' out ta meet yer friend. Yer my insurance that he ain't gonna come out shootin'. Now start walkin'," the man growled, once again poking Jess in the back ribs with the barrel of the rifle.

Jess wanted to turn around and grab hold of the long gun and wrap it around the stranger's head, but he'd noticed that the hammer was fully cocked. One wrong move would place a hole in Jess' hide where there wasn't supposed to be any holes. It wasn't worth the risk. He already had enough problems and didn't need to add one more.

Leading the way and getting close to the woods, Jess called out, "Thomas. Come on out. It's not a war party. It's just this cowboy. Come on out, bring the horses."

From behind a tangle of vines, Thomas stepped out leading the two horses.

"Put yer hands up," the big man said, and Thomas obeyed, raising the horse reins high above his head, leading them behind him as he stepped out into the field.

Poking Jess in the ribs again, the big cowpoke said, "You keep yer mouth shut." He then looked at Thomas and said to him, "So, tell me a story. What are ya doin' out there in them woods an' why is this here snake crawlin' up on me through the grass."

Nervously before he spoke, Thomas started to lower his hands. "Hey, keep them hands up where I kin see 'em," the cowboy reminded the mountain man.

"Ah, me an' Jess, we're on our way ta Laramie. We saw yer smoke an' was worried that ya might be Injuns.'

Their stories were the same, but the giant still wasn't convinced yet. "Yer friend here, he said ya were headed fer a ranch. What ranch?"

Smiling, since he knew the answer, Thomas said, "The Sherman Ranch, jest outsida Laramie."

"Look, mister," Jess finally piped up. "We're just on our way home n' wanted to make sure we weren't gonna end up losin' our scalps. We've been out on the trail for days. We're outta food n' just wanna get home. We don't mean to do ya no harm. If it's all right with you, let me get my gun n' me n' Thomas will be on our way."

The giant ran his free hand down his graying beard as he gave the matter some thought.

"If we meant to rob ya, don'tcha think we woulda come ridin' in on ya not givin' ya a chance?" Jess asked over his shoulder.

"Not ifin ya thought this was an Injun camp," the huge man replied.

"Look, my name is Jess Harper, and that's Thomas Ryan. We just wanna get back to Laramie. We're walkin' since one of our horses is lame."

The mention of a lame horse struck a note with the big man. "Lame horse, an' yer walkin' 'im?" he asked, a spark of compassion finally showing in his manner. "I ain't knowed no bandits that took care of their horses. Always ride 'em ta death an' then go steal another one."

Jess stood silent, letting the information soak into the large man's mind.

"M' name's Sam, Sam Whitingham. I work fer the Grayson outfit east of here. I'm out here lookin' fer strays. Open range, ya know. Ya say yer hungry?"

Thomas's mouth dropped open at the dramatic on-guard turnabout change of the big man. Jess was still a little shaky over the encounter, but he'd run into this kind of greeting in the past. He'd greeted people in the same manner on occasion himself. You never know who you might run into when you're out on the range all by yourself. You had to feel each stranger out and either invite them to your fire, or send them on their way and stand near your gun in case they came back.

Following Sam back toward the campfire and summoning coffee, both Jess and Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam was a huge man, not fat, just big. A giant Goliath of a man, he stood close to seven feet tall. His shoulders measured nearly four feet across and he weighed in near three hundred pounds. He made Thomas look small in comparison. If he had a mind to, he could probably squish a smaller man like a bug. Jess felt rightfully dwarfed.

Before sitting down, Jess asked Sam if it would be okay if he retrieved his handgun. Sam looked at Jess apologetically and insisted that the dark-haired cowboy take a seat and pour himself a cup of coffee while he fetched the gun for him.

Handing Jess his revolver, Sam apologized once again for his suspicious treatment of the two men, explaining how he'd been jumped in the past by bandits sneaking up on him in very much the same way that Thomas and Jess had. Sam poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down with the other two. Jess told Sam about their search for Andy and his regret at not finding the boy as well as his suspicions that young teen was lost forever. Sam sympathized with the two rescuers. "Wish I'd seen 'im an' could give ya some good news, but me an' the other hands, we ain't seen nothin' but a few stray steers an' jack rabbits over the last coupla days."

"You're not out here alone?" Jess asked as he reached for the coffee pot and poured himself more of the fresh, hot brew.

"Naw. If I was, ya wouldn't be drinkin' from them cups," the giant chuckled. "Ya'd be drinkin' from yer hands. Nope, Jake an' Carl are out lookin' fer more strays. I'm kinda the best cook of the three of us, so they told me ta set up camp here an' they'll be back in a few hours. I wanted ta go back ta the ranch an' take back the steers we've already rounded up, but them boys, they wanna run a real cattle drive back home," Sam laughed. Getting up, Sam walked to where there was a small, low wagon, almost a travois on wheels. From the canvas, that was full of wrapped items, he picked up a large package bundled in an oilcloth. As he approached the fire, he unwrapped a large roast. "Since we got company, I reckon this roast should be big enough fer our supper. What do ya think?"

Thomas' mouth was watering so much that he was unable to speak.

A large smile spread across Jess' lips and his eyes showed more life than they had in days. "Sam! Where did you get that?"

"Aw, we slaughtered a small heifer. She was walkin' around with a broke leg. We didn't wanna waste the meat, so we wrapped some of it up in our slickers so we could stay out an' round up more strays. I sure hope we don't run inta any rain fer a while. It was a shame that we had ta waste some of the meat, but we only had three slickers ta wrap it up in. Oh, we had some vittles with us," Sam said as he pointed back at their supply wagon, "but we eatin' a whole lot better now," he grinned. "I reckon I best git this ta cookin'. I was about ta do that when I saw that grass movin' like a big fat snake comin' m' way," he winked at Jess. "Was buildin't that spit. Kin ya drive 'er in the ground while I git this meat on that stick?"

Jess jumped up immediately, found a heavy rock, and began driving the sharpened stakes into the ground on either side of the cook fire.

As the roast baked in the open fire, the three men sat around talking about various things. Sam questioned Jess' unusual boot. He also commented how the pair of strangers sure didn't seem to fit together, so Jess and Thomas told him about their meeting and how they came to being thrown together in the search for Andy. Sam once again conveyed his sympathy for not finding the boy and agreed that it sounded like the river had probably taken him.

Sam told the two about himself and the ranch where he and his companions worked. Jess hadn't heard of it, but Sam knew about the Sherman Ranch, even claimed to have been there a few years back with his boss who bought some horses from Mr. Sherman. "A nice young man, yeller hair, if I recall right," Sam mentioned. "Don't recall any brother, though, but iffin he was younger, maybe he was off ta school er my memory's jest failin' me. Seems like I met someone else. A older fella, but not Mr. Sherman's father. We had supper an' spent the night an' had breakfast b'fore we left in the mornin'. Pretty good cook, if I recollect right."

"That was probably Jonesy. He's Slim's foreman. He kinda takes care of the house n' keeps us in line," Jess grinned.

"Might be the name, don't recall," Sam said as he turned the meat on the stout branch holding it at just the right height over the fire.

"We're much obliged for your hospitality," Jess said. "We're still a ways from the ranch n' that lame horse sure has slowed us down."

"I reckon ya got another day er two of walkin'," Sam said, thoughtfully as he looked to the northwest. "I'll send some leftover meat along with ya, if there's any left by the time we all dig inta this ol' roast."

"That would be great," Thomas said, finally able to keep his mouth from filling up with saliva. "Two days ya say?" he said with a groan.

"Yeah, I should think so, that is by walkin'. That horse didn't seem ta be hurtin' when ya walked 'im in here."

"He came up lame yesterday," Jess explained. "Thomas got off him right away n' I checked him. There was some heat in his tendon, so I thought it best to give him a breather for the rest of the day n' not ride him this mornin'. I'm plannin' on tryin' him to see if he can take the weight this afternoon. We'll haveta ride easy n' keep an eye on him. If he shows any soreness, we'll be back to walkin'."

"Wish I could help ya," Sam said, lowering his eyes. "We didn't bring any other horses with us an' we're prob'ly a good day's ride away from the ranch. Looks like yer on yer own." Looking up quickly, he added curtly, "An' don't git no ideas 'bout takin' any of our horses!"

"Don't worry, Sam. We're just grateful for the meal. We never had any intentions of takin' your horse. It never even crossed my mind," Jess assured him.

The horses grazed merrily while the men continued to chat. Sam's horse lifted his head and gave out a whinny, alerting the men to riders coming toward the camp. Sam grabbed his Winchester and watched the riders for a moment, then sat back down and said, "It's jest the boys comin' in fer their vittles. They kin be kinda ornery, so don't pay 'em no mind."

Jess and Thomas weren't sure what to expect after Sam's last comment. They hoped that they wouldn't be bumping heads with the cowpokes in any way. Smoothing Sam's feathers was difficult enough.

The two men rode to within a few feet of the camp, dismounted and walked to where Jess, Thomas and Sam sat. Sam introduced them to each other, with a motion of his head in the direction of each man.

Once the introductions were completed, Jess said, "I reckon me n' Thomas are usin' your cups. I hope ya didn't mind."

"Give it here, Jess," Thomas said, I'll rinse 'em out. These cowboys look like they needs a little good coffee. Been ridin' long?" he asked the two men still standing and received a twin nod.

"The roast smells good," Jake said as he took off his hat and dusted off his chaps before sitting down. Thomas quickly rinsed out the two tin mugs and gave each of the newcomers one, then sat back down next to Jess. Sam quickly stood up and picked up the hot coffee pot with a raggedy potholder and poured the two cowpunchers each a steaming hot cup of the fragrant brew. No one noticed the pained look on Jess' face at not being included in sharing in another cup. He so loved his coffee and it had been too long since his last taste of the savory refreshment before finding this camp.

"These cowpokes joinin' us for supper?" Carl asked, as he suspiciously eyed the strangers across the fire from where he sat.

"Now, Carl," Sam said, "there's more than enough ta go around. It's the least we kin do fer some of our neighbors."

"Neighbors?" Carl growled, his mistrust rising. "We ain't got no neighbors out here."

Laughing, Sam finally stopped teasing Carl. "Well, I reckon they're as close ta neighbors as we kin figure. Remember our trip ta the Sherman ranch a while back? They work fer Mr. Sherman."

Carl turned to look at the dirty, unshaven, weatherworn pair and shook his head, "They don't look like they work fer anybody. Look more like a couple of saddle bums to me."

"We've been out searchin' for a lost boy. We didn't bring much with us. We didn't expect to be out this long. Actually, Carl, it is Carl, right?" Jess asked, knowing full well to whom he was addressing, but wanted to make sure the man was paying attention. When Carl stopped gulping his coffee and looked at Jess with more interest, Jess continued. "My boss' brother turned up missin'. We thought we knew where he was n' rode out with only what we had on our back n' in our saddlebags. We didn't know we'd be out for days n' not find 'im. From what we've found," Jess' voice softened almost to a whisper, and his eyes lowered to look into the fire, "we think he drowned in the river. We couldn't find his body n' we're headin' back to the ranch to tell his brother the bad news."

"So where's this brother? Your boss?" the other cowboy, Jake, asked. He, too, appeared to mistrust the two strangers at their campfire.

"Slim, Mr. Sherman, was hurt while herding some cattle. He's home with a broken leg," Jess replied, not enjoying the interrogation, but trying to control his temper. After all, he was their guest.

Carl took notice of Jess' sheepskin boot then looked directly at the dark-haired man, "Lose yer boot?" he asked, a humorless smile came to his almost toothless mouth.

"I was hurt, too, but lookin' for Andy couldn't wait. It festered n', well I was lucky enough to find someone to treat it. They had to cut my boot off 'cause of the swellin'." Rather than go through the whole long story, Jess abbreviated it and hoped that Thomas knew enough to keep his mouth shut so they didn't have to rehash the last few days. "It's better now," Jess said with a stare that would have melted steel, daring the man to ask more questions. He wasn't in the mood to play twenty questions. He just wanted to fill his belly and get back on his way to the ranch.

Sam stood up and said, "Okay, enough bickerin' fer now. These gentlemen are our guests. There's plenty more than enough on that roast, an' it almost smells about done. So let's jest git along, an' eat an' then go about our business. What do ya think?"

Jake and Carl grumbled inaudibly between themselves while Jess continued his steely blue glare at them, daring them to disagree with Sam. Thomas looked from Jess to the other men and back again, praying that there wouldn't be any blow up. He figured that Jess had had enough over the past few days. Jess was tired, irritable and borderline irrational with pent up frustrations and wouldn't be able to handle much more and, if pushed, someone might end up dead. After being at the wrong end of that fast draw, Thomas figured that he'd be helping to bury either Carl or Jake. Maybe both.

Sam took out his hunting knife and carved at the roast. It was still pink inside, but everyone agreed that it looked done enough for their individual tastes. While passing out the juicy beef, all the tensions seemed to be defused, much to Thomas' relief. His feet already had blisters. He wasn't looking forward to raising any on his hands by having to dig any graves.

Sam kept an eye on his two men, if either of them would have tried to restart the disputation Sam was going to be sure that he put an end to it. But the conversation over the succulent roast remained quite amiable. The discussion revolved mostly around cattle, horses and ranching. By the end of the meal, it was hard to tell that there had been any rancor between any of the five men to begin with.

As Carl and Jake readied to get back to their work, Sam proceeded to work on clearing up the camp so he could move on in the direction in which the two cowhands would be looking for their evening meal. Thomas gave Sam a hand while Jess prepared their horses for their own journey. He climbed on the back of Thomas' horse and found that the horse was walking soundly and rode him to where the older men were still packing up dishware, the roast still sitting out on a slab.

"Good news, Thomas. It looks like we can use this horse for some ridin'. We'll have to take it easy on 'im n' get off n' walk him from time to time. A grin spread across the mountaineer's face, happy that he wouldn't be wearing out what little leather was remaining on the soles of his boots.

"Glad ta hear that," Sam said as he walked a pile of things to the travois. "Ya still have at least another day's ride ta the Sherman ranch, if I recollect right."

Looking around for landmarks and nothing really outstanding in his mind, Jess had to agree. Thomas was completely lost. All he comprehended was that they had to continue in a northerly direction. I was a good thing that Jess had a good sense of direction.

 **Chapter 61**

Mose reined in the stagecoach team as he drove into the Sherman Ranch yard. The Bradley boys were there to greet him with the fresh team already harnessed for the change.

Inside the little ranch house, Jonesy heard the sound of the coach and quickly ran for the door and out to meet the stage but was sadly disappointed to find that it was empty.

"No passengers?" Jonesy called up to Mose, still seated on the driver's box.

"Nope. Expectin' some?" the stage driver asked as he wrapped the reins around the brake and climbed down from his perch. "Any coffee inside?" he quickly added.

"There's always coffee, you know that, Mose," the cantankerous foreman responded. "We're expecting Andy to come home. We sent him money. He's in Fort Collins. I was hoping he might be with you on this trip."

"He's been found?" Mose asked, a big smile appearing on his face, glad to hear the good news. "What's he doin' in Fort Collins?"

Jonesy and Mose walked toward the house as Jonesy answered, "We don't know. We just got a telegram from him. Mort sent him the fare to get him home. I was hoping he'd be on today's stage."

As the two men entered the house, Slim stood up from the desk on his good leg. He'd been working on the ranch books when the stage pulled in. He was unable to do little more than stand and turn toward the door. There was a hopeful look on his face but when Jonesy closed the front door behind Mose, Slim's face dropped. He, too, had been hopeful that Andy might be on the stage. "Morning, Mose," he said as he lowered himself back into his chair.

"I heared the good news, Slim. I betcha yer sure glad ta hear that Andy's comin' home."

"Mose, help me get Slim over to the table. We can all have some coffee while the Bradley boys change the team," Jonesy requested as he walked to where Slim sat and aided him back to his feet. Mose quickly joined Jonesy and the two older men helped the tall blonde to the table. Once they had Slim seated, Mose sat down while Jonesy hurried to the kitchen.

Andy opened the door after Flint knocked and identified himself. Andy already knew who it was, but he decided to not appear too eager, thus asking who it was. "Are you hungry?" Flint asked as he closed the door behind him. "Bill and Jim are going to meet us at the Silver Dollar."

Andy was a little disappointed that he'd have to share his new friend, but recognized full well that it had to be expected. After all, Flint was in Fort Collins for business. If it weren't for that business Andy would never have met the scout and who knows what might have happened if Flint had not come along. "Sure, I'm hungry," Andy replied, trying to be as upbeat as he could.

"So, you met Mr. Dixon?" Flint asked, as he picked up the pitcher of water and poured some of the clear liquid into a glass.

"He knocked on the door lookin' for you. I didn't open it, just like you said. I only told him were to find you."

Taking a swallow, Flint turned and looked at the teen, "Good boy. You listen very well," he smiled his approval. "Jim told me that he didn't get to meet you, only talked to you through the door. I told him that you'd probably come to supper with us and he could meet you then."

"Yeah, I was kinda scared when it wasn't you at the door. But he sounded like he knew ya, so, I was hopin' I did the right thing," Andy cautiously said, looking up from under his eyelashes at the wagon train scout.

Ruffling the boy's hair Flint said, "Yep, you did the right thing. I'm proud of you, Andy. You're a real smart boy. Now, let's get going. I told Bill and Jim to meet us downstairs. We don't want to keep them waiting."

As Flint expected, the other two men were already waiting for him and Andy. The quartet left together and started walking down the boardwalk toward the Silver Dollar. A young, teenaged girl in a bright red and white dress came toward them, walking with an older woman, probably her mother. The girl's gaiety and long black hair drew Andy's attention. The men couldn't help notice Andy's pause, tipping their hats to the ladies as they, too, paused as they passed. Andy turned around to watch as the two women continued on their way. The youngest of the pair looked back over her shoulder and giggled as the pair proceeded on along the walkway.

Andy's actions drew amused smiles from the three men as Flint turned Andy around to proceed on their walk, "You're not ready for females yet. Keep moving," he teased, causing the other two men to chuckle. Little did Flint realize how much the spritely, dark-haired girl had rattled Andy, reminding him of Crina. The young woman's resemblance to the gypsy girl he'd been so fond of was either uncanny or Andy's memory was suddenly centering on more than just the immediate situation and his focus of going back home. All too suddenly the memories of the days at the ranch and meeting with Crina were crowding his thoughts and causing his cheeks to flush.

"I think your friend is growing up," Bill chuckled as he nudged Flint who was amused and intrigued.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the four were seated at a table where they placed their orders with a waiter. Flint and the other two men immediately began discussing business. Had they not passed the dark-haired girl on the street, Andy might have been a little jealous of not being included in the conversation, but he was now lost in his own thoughts. He could hear Crina's voice as she'd say, "Meet me where the greenbriers twine" and he fondly recalled their clandestine meetings. How he missed her now that they were separated. He wondered if she thought of him. With a frown, he reflected on her lies, as well. At the thought of how he might have been married to Crina had the accident not happened, Andy winced at the notion. Luckily the emotional reflections on his face went unnoticed by the others at the table. Andy's emotions were like a ship, rocking in a stormy sea, with the rolling memories of the passionate gypsy girl. The boy was so wrapped up in his ruminations that he was unaware of the business talk around him. It wasn't until the waiter brought them their dinner did he come back into the present.

"You've been awfully quiet," Flint said to Andy, feeling a little guilty about forgetting all about him in the wagon train dealings. "I hope we haven't been boring you too much," he said, putting his hand over the boy's hand resting on the table.

"No. It's been very interesting," Andy lied, hoping that Flint wouldn't question him about anything they'd said. "It must be somethin' scoutin' for a wagon train, seein' all kinds of new places. I always thought that was what I wanted. Maybe I still do, but right now, I just wanna get back to the ranch."

"And you will," Flint assured the boy, "Come morning you'll be on your way home," he said with a wide grin.

"I bet you'll be glad to be home, Andy," Bill added, also feeling a bit guilty about not including the boy in their previous conversation.

"Sure will," Andy replied as he picked up his knife to start carving at the steak on the plate before him. Once again, he tried to follow Flint's manners at the table, noting that both Bill and Jim were slowly enjoying each bite. No longer half starved, Andy wasn't as eager at digging into the food as previously and understood how the adults were looking at dinner as being a social thing and not just for filling their hungry bellies.

Thomas followed along behind Jess, both walking their horses once again. The horse Thomas had been riding hadn't gone lame again, but as a precaution, every few miles they dismounted and gave the horses a rest from their burdens. Occasionally they stopped to rest themselves as well as to allow the horses time to graze a little.

On the watch for some small game as they continued their journey, they hoped they'd scare something up for their supper. So far they'd no luck. It was a good thing that Sam had sent some of the roast along with them or they might have been going to sleep on empty stomachs.

Looking around at their surroundings, Jess guessed that it would be another day to get to the ranch, and at that, it would probably be dark by the time they arrived. If only they could trust that the horse would remain sound so they could make up a little time, but if they got greedy it could slow them down even more. It was most sensible to keep on the slow and steady, resting the horses as they went from time to time.

If they hadn't needed more water for themselves and water for the horses, they could have kept on the more direct route, but they had to detour slightly to a more westerly direction to find a waterhole that Jess had recalled on an earlier expedition. Luckily, the pond was still there and the water fresh, fed by an underground spring. They filled their canteens and allowed the horses their fill before they headed back now in a north by northeast bearing.

The sun was getting lower in the sky so the two men finally decided to make camp for the night once they'd gotten to a point where Jess figured that they were due south of the ranch. He hoped he was right and not too far off to the east or west, but once they got closer to the ranch and he could glimpse some more familiar landmarks, he could adjust their course.

At the ranch, Jonesy helped Slim get back into the bedroom then guided him until he was settled into his bed. "I hope Andy will be on tomorrow's stage," Slim said as Jonesy said goodnight and lowered the wick on the lamp in the room to leave.

"Me too, Slim. It's the waiting that's the worst, but at least we know he's safe now."

"Yeah, that's for sure," the blonde man said as he settled his head comfortably back into the soft pillows. "I wish we'd hear from Jess, though."

"Yeah, if he helped Andy with the telegram, I wish he would've added a word or two that he was okay. Maybe Thomas and he will be following the stage. I sure hope so. He's still got me worried, too," Jonesy said as he stopped in the doorway. "You want me to leave the door open again tonight?" he asked. He'd been leaving both their bedroom doors open at night so he could hear Slim call to him if he needed anything.

"Yeah, I think so," Slim replied. "Good night, Jonesy."

"Good night, Slim," the older man said as he left the doorway.

Walking through the rest of the house, Jonesy blew out the remaining lit lamps, tossed some wood into the blaze in the fireplace, and then checked to ensure that there would be some hot embers left in the stove for the morning fire.

Satisfied that all his evening chores were taken care of, Jonesy went off to his room and settled himself into his bed. He had trouble dropping off to sleep though. In spite of hearing from Andy, the idea of the youngster being so far away from home still worried Jonesy. His thoughts quickly turned to Jess and Thomas. He was sure that Thomas had to be with Jess or the mountain man would have come back to report that he couldn't find the Texan. They had to be together, Jonesy was convinced. His worry turned to the low supply of medicine and salve he'd sent with Thomas. It had to have been used up by now. He prayed that Jess didn't have a set back and that Thomas might be trying to nurse the young man back to health without any medicine out in the middle of nowhere. But then, had Thomas found Jess needing care, Jonesy was certain he would have brought Jess back home with him immediately. They had to be still out on the trail, perhaps after finding Andy and headed home. With these good thoughts, Jonesy finally drifted off to sleep.

Andy slept fitfully. Dreams of Crina, his ordeal in the river and the time he'd spent with Cal and Running Wolf creating a collage of confusion and sometimes terror and chaos in his mind as he slept. One dream had him with his leg caught in a trap and seeing Cal coming with the club to beat him to death. His tossing and turning woke Flint who became concerned about the boy. The scout decided to sit up and watch the teenager. If Andy's dreams turned to crying out nightmares, Flint wanted to be there for him.

Slipping out from his bed, Flint lit the lamp on the table near an overstuffed chair, turning down the wick so not to awaken the boy. Picking up his shirt, the honey-eyed scout pulled out the horse's tail hairs he'd put in his breast pocket earlier. Sitting down, he started to braid them. Flint noted the individual hairs were fragile and easily broken so he chose to braid several together and then intertwined them into a flat braid, giving the project greater durability and strength. Flint relaxed in his project yet remained alert to Andy's restless, and somewhat fitful sleep. He almost got up twice to soothe the boy, but before he did the boy seemed to quiet himself.

Getting up from his chair, Flint went to his saddlebags and pulled out some turquoise beads and bits of bone and teeth, then sat back down to continue with his little project. Once he completed the object d'art, he placed it in his shirt pocket and continued to watch Andy sleep a little longer. Now sleeping quietly, Flint thought that the boy's restlessness had passed and he was glad that he, too, might be able get a little sleep as well. He walked to where Andy slept and pushed some hair from the boy's forehead and smiled down at him, "Sleep well, Andy. I hope all your terrors are over now," he whispered as he adjusted the disheveled blanket back over the sleeping boy.

Going back to the table, Flint blew out the lamp and went back to his own bed and settled himself down to a dreamless, restful slumber.

 **Chapter 62**

Flint woke with the sun. He washed, shaved, and then dressed before waking Andy. Lightly shaking the teen's shoulder, he said, "Come on, Andy. Time to get up. It's your big day. You're going home."

Andy rolled over stretching his arms over his head then knuckled his eyes. "Mornin', Flint."

"Good morning. I'm finished here. I'll go get some fresh water for you to wash up, okay?"

"Sure," Andy said, sitting up and stretching again with a big yawn.

"Did you sleep well?" Flint asked as he picked up the twin pitchers and walked toward the door.

"Pretty good. I reckon I was having some strange dreams. I woke up a few times, I think," the youngster said, recalling portions of his convoluted dreams.

"I noticed you were restless. I hope you're rested enough for the long stage ride home."

"I'm ready," Andy replied, hopping out from under the covers to retrieve his clothing.

"I'll be right back, don't open the door to anyone but me. I'm not taking the key this time. I'm only going downstairs. Now lock the door behind me," Flint said as he stepped out the door and closed it behind him. Andy did as he was instructed then started to dress.

Flint returned a few minutes later with some heated water for Andy to wash up. Once Andy was reasonably spruced up, the teen asked, "Flint? Is Bill going to breakfast with us?"

Flint studied the boy for a moment before responding as he suddenly realized that Andy wanted to have their last morning together alone with him. But Flint had a commitment to his friend, as well. "Yes, Bill is having breakfast with us. Jim isn't. He had to run out to a farm near here for a milk cow to take out to the train. He probably won't be back for a couple of hours. You might be on the stage before he gets back. Why?" he asked, hoping that the boy wasn't really upset at the prospect of Bill coming along with them for breakfast.

"Oh," Andy said a little disappointed. "Well, I wanted to give ya somethin', but I don't have anything for Bill, so I reckon I better give it to ya now."

Flint's heart was touched. He cocked his hat back on his head, amused that the boy had also thought of a little memento for him since he'd also prepared one for Andy as a going away gift.

Andy reached in his pocket and pulled out the carved wooden whistle and handed it to Flint, "Here. I want you to have this. Kinda to remember me by."

A warm heartfelt smile came to Flint's lips as he graciously accepted the gift. He recognized how special to Andy the whistle was. "I don't know what to say, Andy. I thought that this was something special that you'd want to keep forever. Didn't you say that your friend, Jess, carved it for you so you could call him when you needed him?"

"Yeah, but Jess is almost always there when I need him. I want you to have it. Ah, kinda like if you ever need me, ya know?" Andy shyly said, unable to look Flint in the eye.

"Are you sure," Flint asked, putting his hand to the boy's face and lifting his chin to look into his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm real sure, Flint. I really owe ya more than I could ever give ya. I really want ya to have my whistle."

"Well then I gladly accept it and I'll cherish it forever. Thank you, Andy. It's a wonderful gift. It'll always remind me of you. You know, I've become very fond of you over the last few days and will never forget you or the time we've spent together." Reaching into his shirt pocket, Flint pulled out the braided horse tail-hair bookmarker he'd made. "I was going to wait to give this to you when you got on the stage, but as long as we're exchanging gifts, I guess I can give this to you now. I remember that you told me how much you like to read, so I made this bookmarker for you," Flint said as he handed the boy the handmade present.

Taking the marker, Andy was almost speechless, never expecting anything more from Flint than he'd already provided. He looked at the bookmark, the smooth intersecting braiding of horsehairs, turquoise beads and bone, then at the scout and back at the bookmarker. "It's beautiful, Flint. You made this for me?"

"Yes, and I hope you'll get a lot of use out of it. You keep reading. It's good for the mind and spirit. And when you use it," Flint smiled, "you can think of me."

Andy couldn't contain himself and he threw his arms around Flint's neck, nearly knocking the scout's hat off his head. "Thank you, Flint. I really love it….and I won't ever forget about you," he professed seriously.

"Well, then it's settled," Flint said, "we'll both have good memories of each other. And I promise, if I'm ever in Laramie, I'll be sure to seek out the Sherman ranch and stop by to see you and meet your brother and friends." Putting his hand on Andy's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze he then said, "Now, are you hungry?"

Slowly, Andy nodded his head. He was glad to be spending the time with Flint, but sad that it was fast coming to an end.

"We'll stop by Bill's room. I checked on him when I went for your water. He was awake and said he'd be ready when we were," the scout said as he headed for the door. "We'll come back for my things after breakfast and check out then. I'll see if Bill can get the families and their wagons ready and pick up the horses for the Major. Oh yeah, and Cal's horse. I can't forget to get Cal's horse back to him," he continued as the pair walked down the hotel hall.

"Oh, Flint. You'll be careful? He said…" Andy worriedly commented as he stopped suddenly.

"Don't worry about what Cal said," Flint interrupted. Bending down to look Andy in the eye, Flint put his hands reassuringly on the boy's shoulders. "I told you, I'll be taking Bill and Jim with me when I return Cal's horse. He won't be so cocky when he sees three of us. He's probably cooled down by now and will just be glad to see his horse back. Now, let's go. We don't want to keep Bill waiting. He gets pretty grouchy when he's hungry."

During breakfast, Flint made sure that Andy was at the center of his and Bill's attention, asking questions about Andy's brother, the ranch, and all his orphaned and injured animals. Andy was animated while talking about everything and everyone, his anxiousness to get back home feverishly apparent. He related his concern that his animals may have been set free since being away. He was sure that any still needing special attention, Jess would have been taking care of them, but if Jess was out looking for him and Slim too hurt, Andy expressed his hope that they'd found someone who could minister to them.

Flint tried to assure the boy that things at the ranch would probably be all right and if there were any changes, things would be back to normal in no time once he was safely back home. Andy wanted to believe what Flint was saying but he was concerned about Slim being hurt and that Jess was probably out looking for him and how would Jess find out that he was okay and back home?

As promised, Flint asked Bill if he could attend to their morning business so that he'd have a little time alone with Andy before his departure.

When they left the restaurant, Bill crossed the street and headed for the livery while Flint took Andy to the mercantile. "Pick out a shirt you like," the scout said, pointing at a rack of homespun shirts.

"I, I can't," Andy stammered as he looked toward the rack. "I ain't got no money."

"I don't have any money," Flint corrected, with a wink, then continued, "I'm buying it for you. We want you to look nice for your homecoming, don't we?"

Andy smiled up at the auburn-haired scout, "You mean it?"

"I said it and I'm a man of my word," Flint said, ruffling the boy's hair. "That reminds me, you could use a hat to keep the sun out of your eyes. Let's see if we can fix you up with one of those, too."

Andy's eyes brightened as he looked at a shelf that sported several hats of different styles and colors. First he picked up a bowler hat and put it jauntily on his head and started to giggle. "What's so funny?" Flint asked, unable to stifle his own grin at the teen's choice.

"I had to try it on. How does it look," Andy giggled again as he cocked the hat off to one side.

"I'm not sure how to answer that," Flint replied. "Am I suppose to like it or not?"

"Jonesy wears one like this. He never takes it off. Well, almost never. It just made me think of him." Taking off the hat, Andy put it back on the shelf and picked up a Stetson and tried it on. "This is a lot like my old hat, the one I lost in the river. It's a little big, but I kin make a hatband for it. Like Slim says, I'll grow into it."

Flint reached up and found another very similar to the one Andy was donning and handed it to him, "Here, try this one."

Taking off the large hat and trying on the one Flint gave him Andy was amazed at how well it fit. "How does it look?"

"Much better. I can see your ears now," Flint teased with a grin.

"Okay, I reckon I like this one. It's a nice color, too. Thanks, Flint."

"Now a shirt. The one you have on is a little, well, I guess you'd call it a little worn. It has definitely seen better days," Flint said with a raised eyebrow.

Looking down at his shirt Andy had to agree, "I tore it in the river. I tried to sew it at Cal's cabin. I guess I didn't do such a good job, huh?"

"Your repair job was just fine, Andy, but from the looks of your sleeves, you've grown some, too." Pulling a shirt from the rack, Flint held it up to Andy. "This looks like the right size. Do you like this one?"

"I kinda like the blue one better," Andy shyly said, pointing toward the rack. Flint put the green-checkered shirt back and took down a blue weave.

"This one?" Flint asked, as he saw a smile of pleasure spread across Andy's face. Not waiting for an answer he said, "I guess so. This one's a little more roomy than the other, but…"

Andy cut him off, "But like Slim says, I'll grow into it," causing both of them to chuckle.

"Okay, we'll take it," Flint said as he led Andy toward the counter where a kindly, grandmotherly woman was sorting out some bolts of cloth and putting them on a shelf.

"We'll take these, ma'am," Flint said, taking the hat off Andy and placing it on the worktable.

After the items were paid for, Flint and Andy went back to the hotel so Andy could get ready for his trip home. "Well, Andy, it won't be long now. It might be a long trip but it'll be well worth it to get home, I should think."

"I wish you were comin' with me," Andy tried to convince his new friend again.

Flint smiled and set his hat back on his head as he sat down on a nailkeg, his face closer to the pleading boy, "I told you before, Andy, that if I didn't have so many obligations, I might have been happy to go back with you. I like you very much and I think I would like your brother and friends, too, but I have a lot of work left to do in my life. And…" he paused as a far away look came to his eyes, "I reckon I have my sights set on settling in California once I'm ready. Maybe get myself a little ranch, but one close enough to one of the big cities like San Francisco. I think I want to enjoy a little bit of both lives."

"Maybe I could come visit you when you get your ranch?" Andy asked bright eyed.

"I'd like that Andy. I'd like that very much. By the time I settle down you'll be grown. I promise, once I find my little ranch and take root I'll wire you at the Sherman ranch."

"You will?" the excitement in Andy's voice was extreme. "Oh Flint, I sure do want to see you again and California and the big city would be somethin' I know I'd like." Suddenly, Andy's eyes cast to the floor and his mood dropped. "I reckon that's gonna be a long time from now. I was hopin' ya might come to the ranch sometime to see me an' meet my brother, Slim."

"Andy, if I am ever in Laramie or anywhere near, I promise, I will look for the Sherman ranch and stop by to see you." Flint put his hand on Andy's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "I promise."

Andy shyly smiled at Flint's promise sincerely hoping that they would once again meet.

"I think it's time we headed for the depot. We don't want you to miss the stage," Flint said as he directed the boy toward the door and picked up his rifle and saddlebags. Before leaving, Flint glanced around the room to make sure that neither of them had left anything behind.

Inside the depot office, Andy took a seat on a bench to await the arrival of the stagecoach. "Well, Andy, it looks like you'll be back home in Laramie before supper," Flint commented, sitting down next to the boy.

The clerk behind the desk overheard their conversation and had to pipe in, "Nope, the stage ain't goin' direct to Laramie today. It's been rerouted for a special stop. You'll be spendin' the night in Cheyenne, at the stage line expense, of course. You'll be on the mornin' stage to Laramie."

Flint quickly stood up, a frown on the tall man's face caused the meek clerk to step back from the counter, "What do you mean, rerouted. Why?"

Nervously the clerk responded, "Marshal Rawlins is takin' a prisoner to Pine Bluffs before the stop in Cheyenne."

"A prisoner? Why on the stage line?" Flint questioned, a menacing look on his face.

"A lady prisoner. They couldn't put her in with the men prisoners in the tumbleweed wagon," the clerk disclosed.

Flint's eyebrows flew up in surprise of the news, but was aware that it was the norm to transport women prisoners with a marshal by stagecoach. Shaking his head in acquiescence and with nothing more that he could say or do, he returned to his seat next to Andy.

"A lady prisoner?" Andy asked, not sure if he was excited or despaired by the news.

"Don't worry, Andy," Flint assured him. "I'm sure everything will be fine. I do wish you were heading straight home, but the stage line will make sure you're cared for properly," then loud enough to be heard by the clerk, "and well fed once you get to Cheyenne."

"Yes," the clerk said with a nervous smile, "of course you'll be treated to supper at the hotel that you'll be staying at. When you arrive at the depot they'll direct you where to go. Everything will be taken care of by the line. Just be sure you're at the depot in time to leave in the mornin'. Tell the hotel folks what time to get you up, they're good at that."

"Will you be all right with that, Andy?" Flint asked seriously looking into Andy's eyes for any sign of doubt.

"No, I can do that. I just wish I would be home, though."

"Not much we can do about it," Flint responded just as the door opened and a man with a badge walked in with a young blonde woman donning hand chains.

"Sit down," the marshal commanded the woman. She complied, sitting down next to Flint. Looking him up and down she then smiled seductively at him. Flint tipped his hat as Andy leaned forward to look around Flint, his jaw dropping open, not believing that a woman could be a prisoner, much less a pretty, young one at that. Flint nonchalantly pushed the boy back into an upright sitting position with his elbow, but Andy couldn't help but lean forward a little once again to take another peek at the woman. Maybe the long ride to Laramie wouldn't be so boring after all, Andy thought.

Noticing Andy peeking at her, the young woman leaned forward to look at him, smiled, then spit out, "Boo," then giggled as she sat back against the wall.

"Behave yourself, Crystal," the marshal said as he turned away from the counter holding their stage tickets.

Flint was uncomfortable with the situation and was tempted to see if Andy could take a later stage. Looking at the chalkboard of fares, departures and arrivals, he decided that this was still the best choice for Andy to get him home as soon as possible. The marshal looked capable of his job, probably a lawman for a number of years, so Flint decided to not worry the boy due to his own hesitation.

"Mornin'," Marshal Rawlins said to Flint and Andy. "Will you gentlemen be travelin' with us?"

"Not me," Flint replied. "Andy will be going with you. I trust you'll take good care of him, Marshal?"

"Nice to meet you, Andy," the lawman said, putting out his hand in friendship. Andy reluctantly shook his hand. "And you, sir? Are you his father?" the marshal asked of Flint.

"No, just a friend. I'm seeing him off to Laramie after a family visit," Flint responded as he took the man's offered hand. He didn't see any sense into going into any of Andy's recent past.

"I see. Yes, we should have no problems. Crystal, here, well, she'll behave herself, I'll see to it," Rawlins said as he frowned in the direction of the blonde girl sitting next to Flint. She puckered her lips as if giving a kiss to the marshal from her perch. Distaste came to the lawman's face at the gesture. It was evident that he had no fondness for the girl. He would probably have rather ridden with the men in the tumbleweed wagon, if he'd had a choice. The girl was plucky and he surely didn't approve of her actions and wasn't going to put up with them, but he didn't want to create a scene unless absolutely necessary.

The sound of horses, wood, leather, and steel announced the arrival of the coach. Marshal Rawlins reached for the chains that held the woman's hand's freedom. Pulling her to her feet he directed her to the door, "Come on, an' no funny business. Just get in the coach." The two passed through the door and headed for the stage, the marshal opening the coach door for her and helping her to climb inside, then followed her in and sat next to her. Once seated, she leaned toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Rawlins sat up straight, pushing her back toward her side of the coach, "Crystal, I'd just as soon shoot ya now as look at ya. Now behave yourself. We've got a young man travelin' with us, and I ain't gonna put up with your foolishness. I'll tie ya to the back of the coach an' make ya run all the way if I haveta," he said. Crystal gave him a look of indignation, then turned to look out the window and smiled, amused that she was able to get the lawman's dander up. If she had to take this ride, she was going to make the best of it. Might as well have a little fun before they stick her in that cell in Pine Bluff.

Flint and Andy stood up and Andy reached to hug Flint. Flint felt a twinge in his heart as he nestled his head to Andy's and wrapped his strong arms around the young boy's shoulders. He'd really grown attached to the teen boy and truly hoped that their paths would once again cross, but under better circumstances. He recognized that it was highly unlikely that he'd ever have reason to travel to Laramie, but if he did, the scout had every intention of looking for the Sherman ranch and visiting with Andy once again. And if…if he ever settled down on that ranch in California, yes, he would wire the Sherman ranch, and if Andy had a mind to, he'd welcome the young man to come visit with him. "I guess its goodbye, my friend," he finally said as he helped unwrap the boy's arms from around him.

"Yeah, I reckon," Andy sadly said, his eyes tearing up. "I'll miss you, Flint." Then with a smile he said, "Don't forget the whistle. If ya ever need me…"

This time Flint put his arms around the boy and gave him a squeeze, feeling uncontrollable moisture coming to his own eyes. He then let Andy go and led him to the door and out to the stage. Andy climbed methodically into the coach. Flint slowly closed the door behind him. The teen leaned out the window and Flint reached up his hand, the two shook hands and Flint gave Andy's hand an extra squeeze before letting go. "Goodbye, Flint. I'll never forget ya an' what ya did for me."

"It was my pleasure, Andy. Godspeed, my friend. I'll write you," Flint promised as he stepped back and away from the coach, pulling his hat off his head and swipping his arm across his eyes before returning his hat further down his brow.

As the coach pulled away, Andy leaned out the window and waved at his friend. They watched each other until the stage turned away and toward the main road going out of the town. Sitting back in the seat, Andy wiped away a few tears that escaped to his cheek, christening the sleeve of his new shirt. The young woman seated across from him smiled at him, but Andy didn't feel like it was a friendly smile. It actually made him feel very uncomfortable. He tried to ignore her by looking out the window at the passing scenery but it wasn't long before he felt his foot being touched by hers. He moved his foot away, but in a matter of seconds, their feet were touching again. He looked her way and she gave him a wink. Nervously he looked out the window again. Now their knees were touching.

It was going to be a very long ride like Flint had said. Not only long, but very uncomfortable, Andy envisioned.

 **Chapter 63**

Mose hauled back on the reins of the coach as he pulled into the Sherman ranch's yard. He was quickly met by the Bradley boys, as was the last few day's usual affair. He saw Slim seated on the porch, stretching as much as he could to see if Mose was going to open the door of the coach for Andy to jump out, but no such luck.

Jonesy came rushing out from the house, missing the bottom step in his hurry to meet the stage, stumbling forward but quickly recovering as he adjusted the now tilted derby and giving his back a needed rub. When Mose opened the coach door to allow the passengers to alight, it was obvious that Andy wasn't amongst them. Two dusty, elderly women and an elderly man stepped down.

"Mornin' Jonesy," Mose said. "The passengers'd like ta stretch an' git some coffee if ya got some."

"Always do," Jonesy responded. "I see you're not bringing us Andy yet."

"Nope, but got some news."

"Well, don't tease me. What do ya know? Oh, I'm sorry, folks. Where are my manners," Jonesy apologized as he suddenly remembered the passengers, turning to the trio and escorting them toward the house.

When they reached the porch, Mose helped Jonesy manipulate Slim along with them and into the house and settled him on the leather couch. Jonesy flitted around, making sure that Slim was comfortable and had his injured leg properly propped up on the chair beside the couch before heading for the kitchen.

Jonsey poured coffee for everyone, took a cup to Slim, and then offered some homemade bread to everyone before joining the visitors at the table. While small talk was going on amongst the guests, Jonesy quickly turned his attention back to Mose. "You said you had some news about Andy?" he asked, getting Slim's attention.

"Oh yeah," Mose replied as he disengaged himself from the chatter of the passengers. "Mort wired the sheriff in Fort Collins to check with the stage line to find out if Andy bought his ticket yet. And he did. He's on this morning's stage. Only problem is, it won't be in Cheyenne until late, so he won't be arrivin' here t'night. They haveta make a stop at Pine Bluff before goin' to Cheyenne. The line will put Andy up at the hotel, an' it looks like I'll be bringin' him in on the mornin' stage. I switched runs with Joe so I could be brinin' him home," Mose said, his buttons almost bursting off his shirt.

"Wait." Slim said, frown lines furrowing his brow, "Why isn't the stage coming direct to Laramie? Why the detour?"

"Somethin' about a lady prisoner. Ya don't git much detail on a telegram," Mose replied a little perturbed that he didn't have all the answers.

"Lady prisoner?" Jonesy asked as he poured more coffee into everyone's cup.

"Yeah, that's all I know."

"Yeah, they do that, Jonesy. We've had them come through here. Special runs sometimes. It's the stage line that makes those decisions. I'm sure Andy will be fine," Slim said, unable to hide his real concern. "At least he'll be home tomorrow."

"I don't know, Slim," Jonesy said. "I don't think I like the idea of Andy riding that far with a prisoner."

"Not much we can do about it now," Slim said. "If Jess is riding with them, Andy will be fine."

"We don't know that, Slim," Jonesy reminded him..

"We don't know that he isn't," Slim replied with agitation. He wanted to believe that everything was fine. That Jess was with Andy and everyone was coming home and everything would be back to normal. He didn't want to believe anything different.

Andy fidgeted several times catching the marshal's attention. He didn't realize why the boy was so uncomfortable since he hadn't been paying attention to the inside of the coach. He'd been watching the scenery passing by the window instead. Putting his hat down slightly over his eyes feigning that he was taking a nap, Rawlins started watching Andy's movements. It wasn't long before he realized what had been going on. Crystal was playing a cruel game with the boy who was too shy to say anything to him.

Putting his hat back straight on his head, Rawlins turned to Crystal and said, "Why can't you just behave yourself? I see what you're doin' to that poor boy. I'm so sorry Andy. I didn't think she'd bother you. Why don't you slide down the seat to this side across from me, she can't bother you there."

Andy looked first at the lawman, then at Crystal, who had a fiendish smile on her lips then stuck her tongue out at him. Andy did as the marshal said, happy to be getting away from the woman who was making him so uncomfortable.

"You should've spoke up, boy. If she bothers ya again, you just let me know," Rawlins said as he slapped Crystal's hand away from where she was putting it on his knee. "I shoulda let ya ride in the tumbleweed wagon. But then, it woulda been cruel an' unusual punishment to put those poor men through havin' ya locked up with them," the marshal said, as he shrugged Crystal's head off from resting on his shoulder. "Girl, your gonna end up runnin' all the way to Pine Bluff, I tell ya."

Crystal just smiled defiantly at the man then glanced at Andy giving him another seductive wink. Before long, she had both of her cuffed hands on the marshal's coat lapels and he quickly pushed her off him. "Driver," he called out the window. "Stop the coach," he ordered. Crystal quickly straightened up and started to cry as the coach came to a stop.

The driver stepped down from the box and looked into the coach. "What do ya need, Marshal?"

"Do ya have room up top to put the prisoner up there to ride?" Rawlins asked.

"He's tried to rape me," Crystal piped up. "I said no and now he wants me to ride up on top. He threatened for me to have to run behind the coach if I didn't, didn't, well, you know…," she tearfully accounted.

Rawlins rolled his eyes at the accusations. "Fred, you know me better than that. This little minx just won't behave herself. She's practically thrown herself at the boy an' now she's workin' on me. I've about had enough."

"It's against the stage line rules ta let anyone ride on top. But, I reckon if ya order it, Marshal," Fred said as he stepped back to get a good look at the top of the coach. "It's kinda full up there. Got two trunks ta deliver ta Cheyenne fer some folks. I reckon we could turn 'em some ta make more room."

"Do ya hear that, Crystal," Rawlins said, almost shouting. "Are ya gonna behave yourself or should we put ya up there right now? It's gonna be cold an' dusty, but I don't care. It's up to you."

Crystal leaned against the side of the coach, sniffling. "Fred, I was behaving. Oh, it's so horrible to be a pretty woman. Men just want to take advantage of you all the time. That boy is no better than the marshal."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," the marshal said. "Andy, was she botherin' you, too?"

"Yes, sir. Yes she was. I'm sorry Miss Crystal, but Marshal Rawlins is tellin' the truth. I sure don't wanna see ya ridin' up on top of this rig all the way to Cheyenne, but he's been tellin' the truth."

Crystal stuck her tongue out at Andy then sat herself up straight in the seat, looking straight ahead.

"Well, Crystal?" Rawlins waited, not getting an answer from the now mute prisoner. Giving her a few minutes to speak and still not getting a response, the marshal said, "Okay, Fred, let's get movin' again. We'll see if Miss Willis kin behave herself. If not, I'll let ya know."

"Sure 'nuff," Fred said as he walked back to the front of the coach and climbed back up onto the drivers box and set the coach to moving once again.

Andy leaned toward the lawman and whispered, "Would ya really put her up on top?"

"Probably not," Rawlins whispered back, "but don't tell her," he said with a wink to the teenager. Sitting up straight again, he said, "Just let me know, Andy, if she starts annoying you again. We'll put her up on top for sure if she can't behave since Fred says there's room. Rules or no rules. She won't look so pretty once she gets to Pine Bluff ridin' up there. The wind, the dust an' all" he chuckled as he looked at the girl who was now sitting pertly and glaring at the back of the opposite seat of the coach.

Andy looked at her profile and marveled at how pretty she was. He wondered how old she was and what horrible thing she'd done to have her riding as a prisoner with them. She was so pretty. It couldn't have been all that bad, he thought. Maybe he'd ask the marshal later in their travels if he lost some of his shyness. With luck, maybe the marshal would just come out and tell him. It was still a long ride, anything could happen.

The horse that Thomas was riding was walking a little sore from time to time. Jess couldn't find any real heat in the tendon and there was nothing lodged in his hoof. Once again they had to take turns riding Traveler while the other man led the lame horse.

By lunchtime, they'd scared up a rabbit that Jess shot and when they found a copse of trees to gather some firewood, they decided to make an early camp. They were both exhausted, as were the horses.

Jess tended to the animals while Thomas prepared the cook fire, skinned the rabbit, and set it to roast. When Jess joined the mountain man at the fire, Thomas asked, "How's that horse. Do ya think we'll be able ta ride 'im any more?"

"I can't find anything wrong with him. That tendon feels good, no heat. His hoof is sound as far as I can see. The shoe's tight. I'm beginnin' to think he's playin' with us. Doesn't want us to ride him, an' found out if he limps a little we'll give him a break. It's just that we can't chance it. We've got enough bad news for Slim without bringin' him back a lame horse." Looking around at their surroundings and up at the sky, Jess said, "From what I can tell, I think we'll be at the ranch by nightfall, maybe a little later. But I intend to be there soon, if we have to walk till dawn. If we get there late, we can sleep in the bunkhouse. I don't wanna wake anyone when we get there if it's late. Might as well let 'em all get another good night's sleep before I hit 'em with the bad news. "

Turning the rabbit, Thomas looked to Jess, "That far, yet?"

"I think so. Never hadda walk it before. I know this range. We've got a ways to go before we reach Slim's property. We'll be at the stream that goes through the ranch soon. At least the horses can get a good drink. They both look like they're down some in weight, a lot of it from lack of water, I'd say. They've had plenty of grass. Maybe with a good drink, your horse'll feel more like bein' ridden," Jess said with a wry smile as he glanced at the grazing animals.

When they'd finished eating, the two men cleared the camp and once again started on their way toward the Sherman ranch. The wind came up a few times, sending dust devils swirling around them and spooking Thomas' horse, making him difficult for Jess to hold on to. It took several minutes each time to calm the horse into trusting that the dust wasn't going to hurt him. Traveler steadfastly continued on with the trek carrying the old mountain man, unshaken by the little devils that seemed to appear from nothing and nowhere at the strangest times. In the distance the sound of rolling thunder could be heard, unsettling the pair, hoping that they wouldn't have to come home in the same conditions in which they'd left. But the direction of the sound and the blowing wind assured them that it was blowing away from them, rather than towards them. At least that is what it appeared to be, and they hoped for the best. It wasn't long before the sound of thunder was no longer heard, bringing a sigh of relief to both men.

As the day wore on, the wind blew the clouds to the east. The sky was starting to clear, so the danger of rain had become a non-threat. Before the sun was even near setting, the phantom-like moon was already seen in the sky. A very good sign, at least they would have moonlight to help guide them along the way.

The night was clear and the moon full. The rock formation silhouettes stood out clearly in the open fields. Jess realized that they were easily within walking distance of the ranch. Up ahead he recognized a line of fence that Slim and he had recently repaired near an old sour cherry tree that stood at the corner of the pasture. They were finally reaching Sherman land.

It had been dark for hours now. Jess was sure that those at the ranch must have already gone to bed. Relief washed over him, knowing that he could put off the tragic news a little longer. Exhausted, he just wanted to fall into a bunk and sleep forever, never waking up to have to face the unpleasantness ahead of him.

Finally, the footsore pair reached the rise that led into the ranch yard. Jess nearly pinched himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming and that they'd actually made it to their destination. Warmth filled him at the sight, but did he dare call it home? Would he still be welcome there once he'd relayed the sad news to his employer, his friend, the man he'd wished was his brother? He dreaded to find out. He was so sure that he would no longer be able to call this ranch his home.

As Jess entered the barn with Traveler, Alamo called out a greeting, responded to immediately by Jess' bay gelding. The cowboy nuzzled his horse's nose to quiet him.

At the house, something woke Slim. A sound, maybe a dream he couldn't tell. Before calling for Jonesy, Slim lay still in the darkness listening, waiting to hear something that wasn't quite right. Unable to get out of his bed, Slim didn't see the dim light coming from the barn. Since all was silent, he attributed his wakefulness on a bad dream that he couldn't remember or maybe some of the corral horses had had a quick disagreement. Not hearing anything more amiss, it wasn't long before the rancher drifted back off to sleep.

Once the horses were settled for the night, Jess led Thomas to the dark, empty bunkhouse. There was enough moonlight coming through the window that he easily found the oil lantern kept on the table along with a box of wooden matches. He lit the lamp and turned the wick down so that only a small glow could be seen if anyone were looking from the windows of the house.

Inspecting the small room, Jess said, "Good, there's already blankets and pillows on the bunks. Just roll 'em out. Take your pick, Thomas. I'm done in. I'll take that one," he said, pointing to the one nearest the door before putting out the lamp.

Both men hit the cots, remaining dressed, only removing their boots, Jess leaving the sheepskin in place, and pulling some blankets over themselves.

Thomas was snoring almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Jess tossed and turned, his thoughts on the morning and having to tell Slim and Jonesy about his failures. It was near dawn before he finally dropped off into an exhausted, sound slumber.

 **Chapter 64**

Jonesy woke early, eager to get started baking for the celebration of Andy's return home. He'd peeled apples the night before and had them soaking in preparation for fresh apple pies and turnovers. He was so excited that he hardly felt the twinges of rheumatism that plagued him every morning. Surprisingly, he'd slept exceedingly well at the thought of Andy's arrival. His emotions ran the gamut of pure joy, at having the teen home, to fury at the stunt that the youngster had pulled in running off and causing all the turmoil that it had created for everyone at the ranch. What was going on with Jess was still a mystery, but he hoped that that riddle might be solved once Andy arrived. Jonesy continued to want to believe that Jess was riding along with the coach and the celebration could then be complete.

The fire in the stove was high when Jonesy heard Slim call out to him. He set down the canister of flour he'd just taken down from the shelf and rushed to the younger, blonde man's room.

"Morning, Slim," Jonesy said, beaming.

"Morning, Jonesy," Slim said as he threw his legs gently over the edge of his bed and reached up to the older man for his help to get him into a standing position. "I can't believe it, Andy will finally be home today. I don't know if I should hug him or take him straight to the woodshed," Slim commented as Jonesy aided him to the washbasin to freshen up.

"Aw Slim, you threaten the woodshed all the time. I don't know of one time you ever carried out that threat," Jonesy said as he handed the taller man a towel.

"I know, Jonesy, but this time it's different. Anything could have happened to him. He has to understand that. We could have lost him forever…" Slim trailed off, both men knowing what he meant, but not wanting to put it into words. "And Jess, we don't know anything about him. He could still be out there searching for Andy. I just don't know how to handle it this time, Jonesy," Slim said, emotional confusion emanated in his voice as he shook his head.

Jonesy poured the water from the pitcher into the washbowl for the rancher then said, "I don't know what to say, Slim. I agree, this is different than anything else that Andy's done. I'm sure he's real sorry, maybe even scared, both of what all might have happened out there as well as what he's gonna face when he comes home. He's gotta know how angry you are with him."

"I wish Pa was still here and could be handling it. This big brother thing sure isn't easy. I think I'd resent a big brother for trying to tell me what to do. I can sympathize with Andy in that regard, but running off…" the troubled blonde trailed off in thought as he picked up the straight razor to shave his lathered face. "Jonesy, did I ever do anything that might cause him to want to runaway?" sadness clouded the pale blue eyes of the younger man as he faced his foreman looking for reassurance.

"Never, Slim. Nothing that I can think of. But you know he's growing up. Who knows what gets into young peoples heads sometimes. I can remember when you stood up to your pa when you decided to go off to war. I think you brought it up to him while I was here so that your pa might not react as much as he would've if you'd been alone with him," Jonesy said with a smile. "I'm sure a lot was said after I left that day, too"

Reminiscing brought a frown to the ranchers face as he nearly cut himself. Putting down the razor and wiping off the rest of the shaving foam, Slim then smiled, "No, it wasn't pretty. That argument went on for days. Even Ma was afraid to say much of anything during those days. I reckon I was determined and she saw it and knew that it was going to cause a rift between me and Pa, no matter if I went or not. But Jonesy, I was older, too."

"That you were. Your pa and I talked about it a lot after you left. He finally came around. I don't think he ever wanted you to know it, but after a while, he did see things your way. He was proud of you, Son," Jonesy confided as he picked up the washbasin to take it away with him to empty it. "I'll be back in a minute to help you out to the table. I haven't started breakfast yet, so you'll have a bit of a wait," he apologized as he left the rancher's bedroom.

A parent figure, Slim rationalized, warranted far more respect from a youngster than a sibling. Andy had always looked up to his older brother, but he had a wild streak that Slim never really understood. This striking out by Andy, after talking with Jonesy, he realized was very much like his own with his father when he felt that he needed to go off to war. He could understand Andy's immediate need, but not the reason. Slim hoped he'd have the restraint to wait and listen to the teen when he got home. Yes, there would have to be some kind of punishment so that Andy wouldn't decide to run off any time he desired. Slim decided that the punishment would have to fit the crime, and he needed to understand that crime. Yes, being a big brother acting as a parent, especially to a young teenager, was a monumental job, one that Slim had not asked for nor enjoyed. It was times like this that Slim missed his parents sorely, though he sensed that he'd be less harsh on his brother than their father would have been.

After breakfast, Jonesy helped Slim out to the porch. They both recognized it was too early for the stage, but Slim wanted to be sure that he was seated in his rocker to catch the first glimpse of the stage as it crested the approach to the ranch. If only he had those crutches right now so he could meet his brother as he stepped off the stage.

Jonesy, either whistling or humming to himself, happily busied himself in the kitchen baking the apple pies and turnovers. He'd also found a fat hen to prepare chicken and dumplings for their afternoon homecoming feast. His thoughts often turned to the turmoil going on in Slim's mind, how the rancher was going to handle everything that had happened. They were both glad that things turned out and that Andy was coming home, still wondering about the circumstances and whether Jess was involved in the boy's return home. If he wasn't, how were they going to locate him to have him cease his search and come back home? Until Andy arrived, too many unanswered questions swam in both men's minds.

Andy left Cheyenne, glad to have the coach to himself for the ride to Laramie, recalling the extreme stress of the long ride from Fort Collins to Pine Bluff with Marshal Rawlins trying to control the ever mischievous, coquettish Crystal. Though she'd toned down her behavior, she continued to send subliminal messages to both Rawlins and Andy, no matter how hard they tried to ignore her actions. As they parted at the depot in Pine Bluffs, she blew a kiss to Andy when the Marshal pulled her away from him as she tried to give him an actual kiss. Even though she was pretty, she really scared the bejesus out of the poor teen badly. He'd slept poorly. Dreams of Crina mixed with Crystal woke him often. With the coach empty he thought that he might be able to catch a few winks along the way.

Mose welcomed him with a huge bear hug when they met at the depot and asked him a million questions, none of them that Andy was able to answer before Mose fired off the next. The stage manager had to break them up and remind Mose that he had a schedule to keep, even if he only had one passenger who wouldn't be traveling any farther than the Sherman ranch. Mose had mail to deliver as well as return passengers to bring back from Medicine Bow on his afternoon run. If it weren't against the stage line regulations, the stage driver would have had Andy ride up on the box with him so he could get the low down on everything that had happened him. Mose hoped that he could stretch his coffee time at the ranch a little longer than usual to learn as much as he could about Andy's adventure.

The one thing that worried Mose was that Andy hadn't seen Jess. He had a soft spot in his heart for the Texan liking him from the first time he'd met him. He respected Jess' energy and knew that he could rely on the young man to safely change out the teams as well as being good company when called upon to ride shotgun. In Mose' opinion, the stage line was very lucky to have Jess in their employ. That Jess was injured when he'd left the ranch concerned the older man. Jonesy told Mose that Thomas had probably found Jess and was making sure that Jess was caring for his wound, but that didn't deter the stage driver from his anxiety over the cowboy's welfare just the same. Mose was aware how hard-headed Jess could be and how he'd be a handful for Thomas if the mountain man didn't stand up to the stubborn, headstrong cowhand. Mose hoped that Jess had met his match.

Jess and Thomas were undisturbed in the bunkhouse and slept well past sunrise because of their exhaustion. It was the sound of the morning stagecoach pulling into the ranch yard that woke Jess. At first he didn't realize where he was or what he was hearing, but once the cobwebs cleared, he quickly sat up. He was sore from the endless days in the saddle, sleeping on the hard ground and now sleeping in the lumpy bed. Reaching for his boot, he was ashamed of having slept so late. Not only did he have to share the bad news about Andy with Slim and Jonesy, but now he was late with helping change out the relay team.

As Jess stepped out from the doorway of the bunkhouse. When his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the daylight, he saw Jonesy uncharacteristically running, as best as he could, out to meet the coach. The stage had no sooner come to a stop than the coach door flew open and Andy clambered down from the compartment.

Jess' knees buckled and he caught himself from falling by grabbing hold of the hitching post in front of the bunkhouse. Luckily, Thomas was right behind him and reached out to steady the young man. Once Jess recovered from the sight of seeing Andy alive, he slowly started walking, at first almost staggering, toward where Jonesy and Andy were hugging.

On the porch, Slim stood up and called out to Andy, who disengaged himself from Jonesy's bear hug and waved. To his right, Slim caught movement coming from the direction of the bunkhouse. He turned his head in that direction to catch a glimpse of Jess walking toward where Andy and Jonesy were hugging once again. Surprised at the sight, Slim first whispered to himself, "Jess?" He then called out to his friend, "Jess!"

Jess didn't hear his name called. His focus was on the still ghostly scene before him. If he's dreaming, he didn't want to wake up. The cowhand picked up speed until he met up with Jonesy, his arm over Andy's shoulder, leading him toward the house.

Andy saw Jess and broke away from Jonsey's hold and scolding and ran to Jess. "Jess," Andy yelled as he almost knocked over the weary cowboy when he reached him, throwing his arms around him in a bearhug, knocking Andy's hat to the ground. Almost in a daze, Jess hugged the boy back and questioned, "Andy? How?" He wasn't sure if this was all real or not. Rather than pinching himself, Jess reached out to ruffle Andy's hair.

"Oh Jess, I'm so happy to see you," Andy cried as he stepped back from Jess' arms to look at him. "You look terrible," Andy said wide-eyed, observing the days old whisker stubble, unusual for Jess, along with the extremely dirty and rumpled clothing.

"Andy," Jess said in a near whisper, "I, I thought…" he paused before continuing, unable to say the dreaded words he'd been harboring for so long. "We've been out lookin' for ya. Where have ya been?" the flabbergasted, blue-eyed cowboy questioned as he put his hands on the boy's upper arms to take a good close look at him to be sure that it was really him.

Jonsey had joined Andy and Jess, his own eyes filled with questions. "Well dog my cats," Jonesy murmured to himself, overwhelmed at how things were coming together. Both Jess and Andy home at the same time, but not the way he'd visualized it.

Slim stood awkwardly on the porch, wishing that he could join the trio as Mose sauntered to where they stood looking at each other in utter disbelief. "Any coffee?" Mose asked nonchalantly, but really anxious to get inside with the small family and hear as much as he could about what had happened.

"Sure," Jonesy replied, a bit agitated at the question at a time like this, but then relented and said, "And I made some apple turnovers and pie, too," as he took the arms of both Andy and Jess to lead them to the house.

Reaching the porch, Slim leaned forward on the rail, "Howdy, Pard. Glad to have you back home," he first said to Jess with a smile, then turned to look at Andy. His smiled turned to seriousness as he addressed the boy, "And you, too, Andy. We have a lot to talk about," he said grimly, but reached out to put his arm around his brother's shoulder and giving it a squeeze as Andy reached the top of the steps to the porch.

"I know Slim. I'm sorry. I was really stupid. I know that now. I promise, it'll never happen again," the boy vowed, knowing that he wasn't going to get off easy from this behavior.

"You bet it won't," Slim responded sternly.

"Geez, Slim, what happened to you?" Andy asked noting the splint on Slim's leg.

"I'll tell you all about it later when we talk," Slim said now bending forward and wrapping both arms around his little brother in a warm hug. Andy hugged his brother back. A smile came across Andy's face, as tears rolled down his cheek, landing on Slim's shoulder where Andy had rested his head during the prolonged hug.

Not wanting to spoil the celebration of the homecoming, Jonesy said, "The coffee's going to burn and those turnovers are begging to be eaten. Come on, we have things to celebrate."

"Sounds good ta me," Mose said with a broad grin as he watched the show of affection by the small, unconventional family.

"Can you boys help Slim come into the house?" Jonesy asked as he ushered Andy into the house, whispering to him, "You be careful, young man. You're in a heap of trouble. Slim is pretty upset and angry with you."

"I know," Andy replied, looking over his shoulder as Mose and Jess helped Slim into the house.

Thomas stood off to the side, enjoying the homecoming and not wanting to interfere, deferring to help the Bradley boys with the stage, then find a few things to do in the barn. Those turnovers sure sounded good, but he didn't want to bother the little family. There was too much for them to deal with at the moment. He just hoped that they'd think to save him at least one turnover for later.

Once coffee and apple turnovers were served, the conversation turned in many different directions. Everyone had his own questions to ask and to answer. First they wanted to know what all had happened to Andy, where he was, but Andy had trouble keeping his focus on himself, wanting to know what had happened to Slim.

Mose was upset that he couldn't stay longer to get all the details, but he was satisfied that he'd found out enough about where Andy had been and why he'd run off. Having met Crina once, he winked at the boy when Andy mentioned that he'd followed after her.

Jonesy was feeling smug about his notions about the gypsies being trouble, but this time he kept the 'I told you so' thoughts to himself.

The whole time that Jonesy was preparing the chicken and dumplings for their lunch, the conversation continued diving into everything that had happened to Andy over the past several days. Jess was unusually quiet, only asking a few questions. He was angered to find out that he'd been so close to finding Andy when he'd talked to the young Indian boy at the cabin. Had he been told the truth, he could have caught up with Andy and brought him home himself. His own trials and tribulations ran through his mind, but he kept them to himself, wanting to talk to Slim before revealing everything that he knew especially about Crina and Ion.

Later, after lunch, Andy was sent to his room. Jess and Thomas helped Slim to the porch. Slim needed time to think over the punishment for his little brother. Thomas excused himself to go to the bunkhouse, pleading his aching bones and the need for an old man to have a nap after so many days on the trail, especially with all the hiking they had to do over the last couple of days. Jess was glad to have Slim to himself to relate his own adventures. When Jess came to the point of finding the graves next to the river, his voice cracked at the thought that it might have been Andy they'd found. He then told Slim about following the remaining wagon and finding that the gypsy girl Andy had followed after was in one of the graves. After some discussion, Slim decided it was best that Andy not learn this information, at least not for the time being. Andy had been through enough and Slim felt it might be a bit too much for the boy to learn that Crina had died because she'd gone into the river after him. Jess agreed that if they discussed his search for Andy, finding the graves would be left out. They'd allow Andy to believe that both Ion and Crina were both still alive and well. Maybe, if someday, the troupe came through the area again, Andy would find out. Slim hoped not, but if it happened, then at least the old wounds would be healed. This knowledge would only be known to Slim, Jess, and Thomas, and Jess would tell Thomas to keep it to himself.

Two weeks later, Thomas bade the little family goodbye. Jess had staked Thomas with the meager savings he'd stashed in the town bank on the promise that if the old mountain man turned prospector struck gold, he would repay Jess handsomely. Jess said it wasn't necessary since he felt he owed the old man his life. Hadn't Thomas found him under that ledge and brought him medicine, Jess felt that he might have died of the fever that was raging through his body. Thomas shrugged it off saying they were even since Jess had saved his sorry life when staked up on the mountain. Just the same, Thomas said he would be sure to repay Jess his stake someday no matter how long it took.

Setting out with two mules and prospecting gear, Thomas waved from the horse that Slim supplied for him. Slim was grateful for what Thomas had done for Jess and for helping to search for Andy for so long. The horse was just a little gift of gratitude as far as the tall blonde was concerned.

"I'll miss the ol' coot," Jess said to Slim, Andy, and Jonesy as they waved to the old prospector as he cleared the rise heading for the main road.

"Yeah, me, too," Slim agreed as he slapped his friend on the back and they turned to head for the house. Slim had adjusted to coordinating using his crutches and was able to keep up with the other two, but Andy took off running toward the house. "Andy? Where do you think you're going?" Slim called, stopping Andy in his tracks. "I have a lot of harness leather left for you to work on out there in the barn. I suggest you get out there or you'll never get caught up," he said sternly. Slim had decided that the only punishment the boy was going to get was a close watch over him and plenty to keep his hands busy. Evenings he'd keep the boy's mind active on his books and schoolwork.

Andy felt guilty about everything. He realized how much everyone had gone through due to his leaving. Even if no one had been injured, the fear and panic that they'd realized must have been terrible. He didn't think of any of it at the time and saw how selfish he'd been with only thinking of himself. Everything that happened to him while he was gone, he realized, he'd brought on himself. He'd told almost every aspect of his story, leaving out that Crina had tricked him and was planning on marrying him to save herself from being married to someone that her father might have chosen for her. He wasn't sure if he loved Crina. He was aware that he cared about her very much or he wouldn't have even considered hurting his family. As he worked the leather of the harness, a smile came to his lips as he thought of the many clandestine meetings with Crina, the girl with the dancing, dark eyes, especially in meeting her at her favorite place, where the greenbrier twines. Just the thought of how she'd said it still excited him.

 **Epilogue**

Slim's close watch over Andy had loosened up over the past month. It was obvious that Andy had no desire to run away again and was truly sorry for what he'd done. He'd apologized many times, enough so that Slim asked him to stop. Anything he was asked to do, Andy did without question. Although Slim couldn't follow around after him, it seemed that either Jonesy or Jess was always close at hand.

Today, Andy was working mucking out stalls in the barn and Jess was outside re-railing some of the corral fencing. It was the farthest anyone seemed to venture away from him since he'd come home. Andy recognized that Slim was still upset with him, but Jess seemed to have let it all pass by him already. Placing his pitchfork against a wall, Andy wandered out to where Jess was working. "Jess?" he asked, getting the cowhand's attention.

Looking up from the rail he was wiring into place, Jess pushed back his hat as he stopped working. "What is it, Andy?" he asked, glad to have the interruption, his back was killing him from doing all the heavy work by himself.

"You know how sorry I am, don'tcha?" Andy asked as he leaned against one of the fence posts.

"I reckon ya learned your lesson, I 'spect," Jess responded with a smile.

"Yeah, I have," Andy replied, shuffling his foot in the dust. "I was wonderin," he ventured as he looked Jess in the eye, "Do you think I could go for a little walk? I kinda wanna sort things out in my head."

Jess' eyes narrowed, not sure how to answer the boy. His instructions were to keep an eye on him at all times, though he really felt that it was no longer necessary. "Where do ya wanna walk to?" he asked, unable to hide his underlying suspicion. "Can't ya sort things out while workin' in the barn?"

"No, I need to just do some walkin'. Need to maybe talk to m'self a little where no one can hear me."

Jess knew the feeling, but he most often liked to have his horse to talk to rather than himself. Looking toward the house and not seeing anyone watching, he put his hand on Andy's shoulder and bent to look him straight in the eye. "How long do ya think ya need to talk to yourself?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Not long. Just maybe out to the end of the west pasture an' back. Maybe sit under a tree for a while. Not long really. I promise I won't be gone long," Andy pleaded.

Straightening up and looking toward the house again, Jess glanced back at Andy. "Okay, I'll cover for ya," Jess agreed, "but don't be gone longer than an hour. If anyone asks, I sent ya out to look for some timber to make another rail. I'll take the flack for sendin' ya out there on your own, if I haveta."

A smile broke out on the teen's face as he turned to run through the corral to the opposite side and through the pasture to the west. Jess grabbed him by the elbow before he left and sternly warned, "Don't cross me, Andy."

The distrust in Jess' eyes hurt Andy and he dropped his own eyes as he said, "Jess, I wouldn't do that to ya. You're my best friend. I'd never do anything like that to ya."

As Jess released the boy's arm he said, "I didn't think so. I just wanted to be sure."

Andy steadfastly ran to the greenbrier patch. It was already turning brown with the coming of the fall season. He crawled through the now tangled and overgrown opening. Sitting down in the tall grass, Andy reflected on what had come to pass over the past weeks. Some of his memories brought smiles to his lips while others deeply furrowed his young brow. It had been a bittersweet ride. He'd grown up a lot, he realized, but he recognized he still had a long way to go. Looking up at the sky, he wondered if Crina might be looking at those same clouds and if maybe she was thinking of him. In many ways he loved the wild-spirited girl, but he also unsure it was the kind of love that should lead to marriage. He surely wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. And now he was scared enough that he wondered if he would ever be ready to make that commitment.

The teenager was sorry for all the fear, pain and worry he'd brought to his brother, Jonesy and Jess. He would never have wanted Jess to go through what he'd survived while looking for him, along with the anguish that accompanied Jess home with the thought that he'd drowned.

The briers had changed. They'd been green and alive when he was there with Crina. Now that he was alone, it wasn't the same. Only the dead leaves, some caterpillar cocoons and lonely blueberries remained on the entwined thorny branches. The thicket no longer held any magic. It was brown. The leaves were shriveled and falling from the entwined branches, dead like the magic. It was no longer a secluded, hidden place. Now he could see through the tangles beyond and into the outside world.

His mind continued to race over the past several weeks and how many things that happened and changed in his life since meeting the tempestuous gypsy girl. So many lessons he'd learned about life, the value of his family and how much home really meant to him.

He mused over how things might have been different if Crina could have stayed at the ranch with him as she'd once expressed was her wish. He was sure that Slim would have never approved of it, but the thought was there. What if?

Andy felt every emotion from caring for her as well as his anger with her when he found that she'd lied to him, and not just once but many times. She was full of deceit, he realized, but his heart wouldn't allow him to hate her. She would always have a special place in his heart he sensed.

His thoughts turned to the vardo sliding into the river and the terror of his fight to survive the swirling waters. He wondered if Ion had gotten out from the river. He felt he'd been riding the rapids for miles before getting hung up in the rocks and branches to stop his rushing down the raging river. If he hadn't washed to the side of the river where Running Wolf found him, could he have gotten out from the water or would he have drowned or died of exposure out there where no one knew where he was? Did the gypsies even look for him, he wondered, suddenly feeling abandoned by Crina. During his whole struggle in the river, he never saw anyone looking for him.

He reflected on the time he'd spent with Cal and how horrible life must be for Running Wolf living with his father. Wittnessing the trapper's temper and the peek he'd had at the man when he was drinking and turned nasty. Andy trembled at the thought of being chained and locked in the stinking tanning shed if the two went to Fort Collins. Just thinking about the smell that hovered around that shed turned his stomach. Cal had no intention of ever letting him go.

Then Andy's thoughts turned to his friend, Flint. He hoped their paths would cross again. If Flint hadn't come along to help, who knows what might have happened. Cal probably would have caught up with him and dragged him back to the cabin or Andy might have been forced to use the rifle to get away from the vicious man. A goose stepped on his grave again as he thought of the possibility of having to kill the trapper.

The sound of a large wedge of Canada geese winging south drew Andy's attention to look at the angle of the sun. In near panic that he'd been out longer than he promised, the young teen figured that he'd better head back for the barn before Jess came looking for him. He surely didn't want to disappoint Jess and lose his trust.

Andy crawled out from the tangled thicket and strolled a few feet away before turning to look back at them. When he'd first found the thicket, it thrilled him, now it made him shudder. It was there that it all began. The magic was gone and what once was a place of wonder and beauty was now nothing more than a twisted bunch of overgrown thorns. Even in the spring when the thicket turned green, he recognized that it would never be the same and it wouldn't be a place he'd want to visit again. Life was a tangled bramble.

Turning toward the ranch, Andy started to run. With all his regrets, he was glad that he'd had his experiences, since everything turned out all right. He realized how different things could have been. It all taught him so very much. Home, family and good friends meant everything. He reckoned he was already aware of it in his heart, but now he had it strongly welded in his mind.

As he reached the barn and turned the corner, he ran into Jess, almost knocking him down. "I was just comin' to look for ya," Jess said with a hint of irritation. "I said an hour," he reminded the boy.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I reckon I had a lot of thinkin' to do an' lost track of the time," Andy apologized.

Reaching into his pocket, Jess pulled out Andy's father's gold pocket watch and handed it to him, "I reckon I shoulda gave this to ya before ya left. I found it in your stuff at the river. I had it fixed in town. I was gonna give it to ya for your birthday, but I reckon ya could use it now. I might forgive ya for bein' late, but I reckon Slim might want your hide if you're late," Jess said as he ruffled the boy's hair.

Andy's eyes widened as he took the watch from Jess, "Wow, Jess! I thought I lost it forever," the teen said in awe as he held the pocket watch up to his ear to listen to the rhythmic ticking.

Jess lifted the boy's chin to look him in the eye. "Ya might feel real happy about findin' somethin' ya thought was lost forever, but Andy, it's nothin' like how I felt when I thought we lost ya forever in that river an' I couldn't find ya.

"When ya stepped down from the stage, I felt my heart stop. Losin' somethin' like that watch can mean a lot, but losin' someone ya care about, it's nothin' to compare. Ya might not think I'm as angry with ya as Slim, but I am. I was. I reckon I've been in your place from time to time," Jess admitted with a crooked smile. "I have forgiven ya, n' I think I just proved that I trust ya again. Andy, please, don't ever make me lose that trust." Touching his heart, Jess said, "This can't take it, Pard. I lost my little brother a long time ago. You're my little brother now n' I don't ever wanna lose ya."

Tears welled up in Andy's eyes at Jess' heartfelt confession. Unable to contain himself, Andy reached up to hug Jess around his neck, "Ya don't never need to worry about that, Jess," Andy whispered.

Stepping back, Jess said, "Good. I'm glad that that's settled. Now we've gotta win Slim n' Jonesy over," he said with a grin. "But first, ya have two more stalls to muck out before supper."

Andy smiled at Jess as he tucked his father's pocket watch into his breast pocket and ran off to the barn to complete his chores.

Shaking his head and inhaling a deep breath, Jess headed back to his own chores, knowing that the small gesture of trust went a long way with the boy. Now all they had to do was to smooth Slim and Jonesy's ruffled feathers and all would be well once again at the Sherman ranch.


End file.
